


Drabble Ball Z

by Bitchii_usa



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-02-03 23:12:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 37,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12758118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitchii_usa/pseuds/Bitchii_usa
Summary: A collection of one shots collected from my Tumblr. Will continously add more as more is written.





	1. Chapter 1

p>oooOooo

Bulma ran her fingers across the silken sheets, her hand lingering in the empty space where he was not too long ago. 

He must have gotten up in the middle of the night when she was lost in slumber. She frowned, clutching the sheets tighter to her naked body. 

She looked down at the growing swell of her stomach and sighed. She was still early in her pregnancy, about three months in according to her doctor, and she couldn’t submerge herself into the expectant motherly bliss that she had been promised. 

“Oh baby, ” she spoke to her growing child, “what kind of warped existence are your parents bringing you into?” 

The androids were coming, according to the lavender haired teenager, and all of her friends were busy preparing for their fated arrival. 

And of course that meant Vegeta. 

She unwrapped herself from the sheets and walked to her bathroom, her body relaxing at the promise of a hot bath. Her mind betrayed her serenity, however, as it coursed through her various emotions surrounding the father of her child. 

Vegeta had never declared that they were an item, or even that he cared for her outside of satisfying his own carnal desires. And when she told him she was pregnant, he had barely nodded before excusing himself to go train. She could have crumpled up in a heap of sadness at his reaction, but she brushed it off and continued on, like the independent woman she prided herself on being. 

But that didn’t stop him from coming to her bedroom every night. Nor did it stop him from glancing at her belly when he thought she wasn’t looking. At times it made her feel safe, like he was giving her an unspoken promise of protection. 

And at other times it scared her shit less, and she dreaded over if he would ask her to terminate the baby. 

He hadn’t, nor had he indicated that he wanted her to, and for that she was glad. But as she dipped her feet into the hot water, she couldn’t help but marinate over one question:

Was all of this some sort of mistake? Karma even, for breaking Yamcha’s heart? 

She heard the door to the bedroom open, followed by heavy footsteps. From the bathroom door she could see his back, his blue spandex top drenched in sweat. She rest her chin on the too of her hands on the side of the tub and watched him, studying his calculated moves and his diversion of turning around. 

“Vegeta,” she said finally, “can you come here for a second?” 

He tensed up at her voice, and for a second she wondered if he was going to bolt right out the door, but he turned around and strode in the bathroom, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. He burned his eyes into her, his lips pressing into a tight line. 

She swallowed hard at his stern expression, reminding her that he was a dangerous man who not so long ago put the entire planet in danger. But here she was, naked and vulnerable in front of him, her belly bloated with his child. 

Times sure change. 

“Do you want to spend the afternoon together? Outside of this bedroom, ” she said sharply, “and out into the real world?” 

He remained silent, his face still stoic, and his eyes guarded. After several tense seconds, he responded with a, “Why would I want to do that?” 

Because that’s what normal people do when they’re dating, Vegeta!“

“Dating?” he mocked her, a coy smile dancing on his lips, “what makes you think we’re dating? I’m not that idiot that you freed your time of.” 

Her heart jumped down to her stomach and she scolded herself. Shouldn’t she have expected this? Honestly she would have been more surprised if he had acknowledged that he wanted her exclusively. But still… 

“I’m carrying your child, Vegeta! Do you really mean to tell me that you would be comfortable with me seeing another man?” She narrowed her eyes at him. 

His jawline tensed, his eyes darkening, and he straightened his posture. “You wouldn’t dare see another man in your…. condition,” he planted his words firmly in the soil of his mouth, although Bulma could tell that the roots lying underneath sprouted with the truth. No, he would not want to see her with anyone else. The thought gave her mild satisfaction. 

“Furthermore,” he continued, “I have more important things to spend my time doing. Like saving your precious planet and proving to all of you that Kakarot is a sham.” he looked over to the sink, his eyes dancing over everything except for her. “Dating is for children and for those who have no real goals. We’re fine the way we are.” 

“We’re not ‘fine’, Vegeta, ” her voice choked with emotion, and she instantly hated the pregnancy hormones that clouded her senses,“ Fine is me enjoying my pregnancy while my partner helps me out. Fine is you rubbing my stomach and telling me how you can’t wait to see your child. Fine is you being around for a lot longer than a quick fuck to aid you to sleep. We’re anything but fine.”

Vegera scoffed, and for a second it looked like his eyes displayed a hint of remorse as she called him out. But then it was gone, along with the moment, and she felt like the conversation had gotten nowhere. 

“I don’t know what you want from me, ” he said bitterly, “but perhaps it was a mistake in thinking you wouldn’t cling so heavily. I don’t have time to play husband, I have things to do.” He turned his back to her, at the right moment in Bulma’s opinion, so that he wouldn’t see the crystal tear that cascaded down her cheek. 

“I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going? ” she choked out softly, her words tangling in the ladder of her throat. 

“That’s irrelevant. I’ll be back when the androids arrive. If you have that baby by then, make sure to give it a good name.” And then he left her as quickly as he had come, and she felt a piece of her go with him. 

She wiped her cheek as if it was a magical elixir to her pain, and leaned against the back of the tub. 

She should have known better. She should have listened to her father when he told her she had an eye for danger and unrelenting desire to dance in the fire. She should have walked away when she felt the familiar pull of darkness the first time she bedded him. 

But she didn’t, and she wasn’t afraid to say that she enjoyed it. But now she had to pay the iron price. And her baby, too… 

No, she thought determinedly. Her child should not have to suffer for the sins of the parents. She would not tolerate it if someone forced her to pay for any mistakes of he parents, and she would not pass it down to her child. 

She would let the tears fall for now. She would let herself soak in the waters of her broken heart, for now. But when she was finished with her bath, and after she had scrubbed away all of her internal torment, she would rinse the dirty lather from her skin and start anew. She would become clean, a new Bulma. 

And she would do it with or without Vegeta. 

oooOooo 


	2. Chapter 2

Vegeta’s fingers hovered over his keyboard, trying to find an appropriate response to the message that illuminated his screen. He swallowed his beer roughly as he read it again, hearing it in the soul splitting purr that Bulma loved to use. 

‘Did you enjoy yourself last night?’

How could he answer that? In a crowded bar, surrounded by a bunch of people that he definitely didn’t want in his business, and try to keep himself restrained enough so that none of the women around thought his erection was their doing.

He looked around the table at the men placed there, and was happy to see them caught up in Krillin’s arrest-of-the-week story. A perfect time for him to make his move without any questions. It was bad enough that she had forced him to go on a “man’s night out” while she paraded around with Chi Chi and 18, and he wasn’t going to stoop any further than to dive into stories about criminals he could squash with his thumb. 

Quickly, as if he would get caught, he typed: “Yes.” 

He took a relaxing breath, drinking more of his fifth bottle. The effects began to wash over him hazily, and a few times he found himself chuckling at something Goku had said. 

His phone buzzed against his leg, centering his world around the brightened screen as another line of text scrolled in front of his eyes. 

‘Which part? I love feedback. “

He swallowed thickly. She was drunk; he didn’t need to be in her proximity to guess it, he could taste the liquor from her message. The men around him were guffawing in their theatrics, not bothering to pay him any sort of attention, and he say his hand down in his lap to reply. 

But how could he best word this? Did 'all of it?’ count? No, she would pester him for specifics, so he’d better make good on these messages. 

Let’s see, how could he convey this properly? Should he start with how she had turned off all the power to the gravity chamber, forcing him to enter the house and find out what hell was going on? Only to be met with darkness, irritating him even further, until he found himself on a search mission to find the woman responsible. 

Or perhaps, he should say that when he did find her, his jaw practically came unhinged. When he drank in this sight of her on their bed, her pale skin bound tightly with black rope and her hands cuffed to the bed post, that he instantly got a hard on? 

Yeah, let’s start with that. 

'Seeing you submissive like that. Usually you like to take control. ’

There. He sent it. It should suffice. He drank his beer down quickly, motioning for the bartender to bring him another one. Goku laughed about how he had never seen Vegeta drink so much. Vegeta felt the reply, “is that a challenge?” burn his tongue, but it was remedied by the vibration of his phone. 

“Oh? Go on. I know you have more. ”

Vegeta had killed many innocent people. He had worked for Frieza, and at one point in his adolescence, he didn’t mind it. He had taken enjoyment in almost killing the half Saiyan child that had grown into someone Vegeta liked to tolerate. 

And yet, he felt he had never seen anything crueler than what Bulma was putting him through now. 

He gulped down his sixth beer as soon as the glass clicked on the table, and he felt a little more bold. Was this on purpose? Did she send him out to get him drunk so she could ask him these questions? 

If so, it was working. 

His mind played over the various events. How she had told him the children were with her parents and would be gone for the night. How she was feeling like a bad woman who needed proper punishment that only a prince could enforce. How she had been waiting all afternoon to atone for her sins. 

And then she pouted at him, and with a pleading voice, she looked at him with her large oceanic eyes and said:

“I’m ready for you to do as you will, Prince Vegeta.”

And how smiled to himself at how fast he had almost cum in his pants right then. 

With much more eagerness than his sober counterpart would have liked, Vegeta typed in the little box:

'Your voice makes me hard. I’m getting hard just thinking about it.’

This time he studied the screen, watching anxiously as those gray bubbles indicated that she was responding. The bar became white noise, and he felt like he couldn’t stand up waiting any longer. Should he take this to the bathroom and call her? 

'Tell me more, Prince Vegeta.’

Goddamn her. 

He ran his hand down his face as he attempted to think of a response. One that would best describe how he felt. Another bottle was placed in front of him. He turned to see Goku smiling and tipping his bottle at him. “Yamcha s paying for another round!” 

For the first time, Vegeta found Yamcha useful. 

He drank half of the bottle, feeling light all over, and went through the next sequence of events. He saw in his mind of him approaching the bed, hearing her whimper as he touched her milky thigh. “So you’ve been bad?” he asked in a voice that wasn’t his own “and you’ve come to the Prince to pay for your crimes.”

She nodded, the tops of her breasts moving with her, and purse her lips together. “I heard that no one gives punishment like you do. I hear that you’ve been known to make your subjects cry.”

Fuck. That tight little voice of hers, just oozing with sensuality. He removed his pants, his shirt already discarded, his cock aching with desire. But he would play along. 

He moved the black rope that covered her nipple, lightly running his finger over it. She jerked lightly, her body aching to meet his touch. He removed his finger and grinned. 

“Not yet, woman. You will enjoy pleasure when I say so.”

He took his time running over her skin, in places that he knew she loved, and especially in places that did nothing for her arousal. He enjoyed watching her face go through various emotions of irritation, and his nose picked up on the wetness between her legs. 

“Oh?” he asked, running a finger in between the ropes that covered her lips, “are you ready to pay?” He touched her lightly, playing with her swollen nub as she meweled in front of him. He rubbed faster, using another finger to play with her slick opening. Her breaths began to quicken, her face becoming red. 

And then he stopped. 

She groaned loudly, and he laughed at her Misery. “Woman, you should be careful for what you ask for.” He brought his finger to his lips, watching her face practically explode. 

“P-please, Prince Vegeta, ” she begged, her eyes glossing with desire. He chuckled and grabbed his member, making his way to the foot of the bed. 

“Show me how badly you want to make up your sins to your Prince.”

She looked up at him innocently as he moved closer, licking her plump pink lips. She arched her neck until her lips circled around him, and he threw his neck back in bliss. 

He felt himself begin to spill into her and removed himself from her mouth, making his way back to her bottom. “Your Prince is amused woman,” he said huskily, “and for that you have earned yourself a treat.”

He bent to his knees and brought her hips to his face, smelling her familiar scent that intoxicated him. He devoured her like he was starving, and she was more than grateful to feed him. He began to touch himself at her hypnotic moans before pulling away from her. She was close, he could feel it, but she wasn’t allowed to feel her desire yet. 

“GOD DAMNIT VEGETA!” She screamed, breaking character completely, her eyes alive with fire. 

He laughed heartedly at her, wondering when his wife would emerge. Role playing or not, Bulma could only take the tease for so long. 

“Beg me.”

Her face relaxed, her lips pouting again. “Please, Prince Vegeta,” she said softly, his cock throbbing . 

"Please, what? ”

She bit her lip and smiled at him, turning her head to the side. “Please make me cum.”

He smiled, hearing those magic words. He hovered over her, grabbing himself with a dark desire in his fingertips, and pressed his head near her opening. Maybe she had learned her lesson, maybe she had earned the right to cum. She did beg her prince, after all—

“Vegeta!”

Vegeta looked up angrily, being thrown out of his daydream. The other men were putting on their jackets and stretching their arms in a drunken tiredness. Goku finished his bottle and slammed it on the table. “We’re heading out to get some food, are you comin’? What’s on your phone that’s got you so wrapped up in it?” 

Vegeta felt his face flush red and he snarled. “M-Mind your business, Kakarot! Im done entertaining you all for the night!” 

He looked at his phone and at the empty box, Bulmas last message having gone unanswered. He thought for a second before a devious smile plastered on his lips. 

'I forgot the rest. Care to refresh my memory tonight?’

He heard Goku grumble about him being a poor sport and he glared at him. His phone demanded his attention as it notified him again. 

'15 minutes. Hurry home now.’

He smiled as he hurriedly stood, too drunk to care about his current condition below. He pushed past the men and headed straight for the exit, his tongue salivating at the promise of feasting on his wife. 

And perhaps, while he was on a drunken stupor, he has would reverse the roles and beg for her mercy tonight.   
oooOooo 


	3. Chapter 3

oooOooo 

The bed dipped heavily between Vegeta and Bulma, waking the duo instantaneously. Sounds of sniffling invaded the air, promoting Vegeta to open his eyes and grunt. 

Bulma stirred next to him, rubbing her eyes and sitting up. He followed suit, just in time to see her gather a small bundle into her arms, blue hair spilling over Bulma’s arms. 

“What’s wrong Bra?” she attempted to soothe the crying toddler in her arms, but the sniffles grew. 

“I-I think there’s someone in my room,” Bra responded, her voice full of salty tears. 

“That’s not possible angel,” Bulma coaxed her, resting her chin atop Bra’s aqua curls, “The security codes are set. We would have heard something.”

“Youre wrong, mama!” she yelled, her tantrum growing, “I heard them!” 

“Do you want mama to check for you? ”

Bra shook her head no, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “N-no, I want Papa to check with me.”

Vegeta groaned at her words. Bulma heard him and turned her head to look down at him, casting him an icy glare. Vegeta glared right back, unfazed. They both knew Bra was just being paranoid, so why did he have to get up? 

“Your mother can check for you, Bra,” he said matter of factly, feeling the lulls of sleep serenading him again. 

Bra turned around in her mother’s arms and pouted. “No, Papa! It has to be you!” 

“Yeah, Vegeta,” Bulma added, raising her brow, “it has to be you.”

Vegeta grunted and was about to tell his daughter that she had Saiyan blood running through her veins, and she needed to stop being so dependent on her parents. It had worked on Trunks, and it would work on her. 

But then he got a good look at her. Into her deep eyes that mirrored her mother’s, with cheeks that were not quite his, a pout that he was sure had gotten Bulma out of situations when she was a child, and he felt something break inside of him. 

“Papa,” she said softly, tears welling up in her large blue eyes, “I’m afraid.”

Vegeta swallowed, a sudden urge to protect her rising out of him like a phoenix. Duty rose in his chest, and he threw the covers off of him and scooped Bra into his arms, avoiding the loving smile that Bulma was giving him. He waited until he was in the hallway and out of Bulma’s earshot before patting the top of her head and whispering in her ear:

“Papa will make whatever is scaring you go away.”

That seemed to relax her, and she wrapped her small arms around his neck, nodding her head. He made his way to her bedroom and flicked on the lights, the colors of teal and baby pink invading his eyesight, soothing jungle sounds still coming out of her sleepy time music box. 

Vegeta walked in and looked through her closet. “Nothing there,” he whispered, turning to let her see. Next he checked behind her bed, pointing to the empty cream carpet. He put her on his back as he got to his knees and checked underneath, letting her see that it was unoccupied as well. 

He checked the windows, letting her small hands wiggle the locks herself, and he cradled her into his arms as he looked down at her. “Do you see, Bra? There’s nothing here, so you shouldn’t be afraid.”

She nodded, hiccuping with a throat full of unshed tears. “But the lizard might come back!” 

“Lizard? What lizard?”

“The white one! Like the one big brother was telling me about,” Bra wiped her eyes, and Vegeta noticed at how her blinking was slowing down. “Big brother told me that the lizard tried to fight Papa and killed him once.”

So that was what this was about. Trunks and his big mouth telling stories that he shouldn’t be telling. The boy was a teen now, and it was clear that he was forgetting that his sister was still vulnerable to these stories. While Vegeta knew that Trunks, and even Gohan, had been exposed to much more than she had at her age, he would be dammed if he let anyone scare her. 

He would talk with Trunks in the morning. 

He laid her down in her bed, covering her body with her pink sheets, and flipped on her nightlight, a yellow glow emitting the room. “Don’t listen to your brother, he’s just being mean.”

“If you say so, Papa. Will you yell at him for Bra tomorrow?” 

Vegeta nodded, patting the top of her head. “And I’ll even let you see it too.” 

Bra smiled at him clutching the sheets tighter. “Papa,” she whispered, “will you stay with Bra?” 

Vegeta looked down at her, shaking his head mentally at Bulma for coddling her too much. “Go to sleep, Bra. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He walked over to the door and shut off the main light. He was just about to walk into the hallway when he was bombarded with sniffles. He turned around to see that Bra had buried herself under the covers, attempting to cry herself to sleep. 

He sighed, wondering just what kind of man he had become. He shut the door and made his way back to the bed, crawling in next to the toddler. She nestled next to him, resting her head against his arm. 

“You’re a good Papa, ” she said drowsily, “and Bra loves you.”

Vegeta was glad at that moment that he closed the door. That way, neither Bulma nor Trunks would walk past and see the Prince of all Saiyans beaming with pride and snuggling next to a 4 year old, beneath pink sheets.


	4. Chapter 4

oooOooo 

The last bit of Twilight spilled through the rusty windows, illuminating a turned over picture frame that sat in the corner of the laboratory. Bulma watched as Vegeta walked over to it, and she crossed her arms and licked her dry lips in worry. 

He bent down to pick it up, dusting off the debris from the glass. He coughed once, his shoulder muscles expanding, and turned around to face Bulma. 

“You kept this?” he said drily, his eyes dark with fatigue. 

She nodded, staring down at a cracked floor board. She had no idea how to act around him. “I thought Trunks would like to see it. Well, back then. That was before…” she shrugged her shoulders, not knowing what to say. 

“Before he met the other me.” Vegeta scoffed, running his finger across the frame before setting the picture on a broken shelf. 

“Yeah.” She wasn’t sure what to say to Vegeta. She wasn’t sure what to say to herself, for that matter. One moment she had been gasping for air, looking down the ominous arm of her tormenter, questioning why any Kai would be so cruel to have her killed by her (supposed to be dead) best friend. And just as she had gotten settled with leaving the fate of the world to her only son, she found herself back in her worn lab. Alive. 

And with a very confused, and much younger, Vegeta. 

He hadn’t spoken much, outside of a few questions that he had for herself and Trunks. And when Trunks informed him that he, his father of the past and a very much alive Goku had managed to bring them back with some divine style dragon balls, he had limited his talking. 

Bulma had questions too. But she was more elated to have a second chance with her son and his girlfriend than to drown him with her interrogations. And now she had to figure out how to resume her life with everyone back, including the Saiyan man standing before her. 

“I’m hungry,” he gruffed, barely meeting her gaze. 

“Trunks and Mai went to get food. They should be back soon.”

He nodded, his eyes finally meeting hers. They roamed over her, and she felt self conscious. God, what did she look like the last time they saw each other? She was younger, with a smoother body and less wrinkles, her hair bright and her eyes alive with hope and love of life. A stark contrast to her current self. 

But he remained the same. Still solid and muscular and handsome, with his regal features and sharp jawline. She wanted to disappear from underneath his gaze, afraid he would notice the lines in her face and the stress in her pores. Was it bad that she still wanted him to think she was desirable? 

“You did well,” he interrupted her thoughts, “raising Trunks alone. He’s gotten stronger than I was back then.”

It took her breath away. Was he complimenting her? “Well you had a hand in that. Whether it was you in this time or another one, he still grew because of his father.” 

Vegeta clenched his jaw, jealousy washing over his face. It was clear that this Vegeta didn’t like that someone else had done what he could not, even if it was a Vegeta. He looked away from her, walking over to a lone computer stool. He sat on it, the seat creaking under his heavy weight. 

She cleared her throat and tried to look at from him. All of the feelings she felt back then crept up on her like nausea, and she almost doubled over at overwhelming emotions. She wanted to say something, anything to clear this awkward tension. 

“I’m glad you’re back, Vegeta.”

She hoped that was the right thing. 

He cocked an eyebrow at her, crossing his arms. “I can’t say the same.” 

Ouch. Maybe not. 

She blinked rapidly, looking around in disbelief. Was he serious? Did he not miss them when he was dead? Did he not wish he could have another chance at this family thing? Trunks had told her how she and Vegeta married in the past, and how his younger counterpart was happier for it. How Vegeta had changed, became a better father and spouse. She couldn’t help but wonder what had her past self done to initiate the metamorphosis. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me, ” she bit out, finally glaring at him, “you get a second chance at life, a second chance with your son, and you’re going to complain?” 

He looked at her, his expression stoic, and grunted. Bulma couldn’t believe that he was still the same son of a bitch who would rather reclaim a victory than take care of his family. 

It was silent between them, only the whispers of the wind dancing on the shutters filling the silence. The sun was practically sleeping now, and the last rays played with the structures of his face, making even his scowl seem majestic. 

“Are we going to be eating in darkness,” he said, his voice getting lost in the embers of the night. 

She let her gaze linger on his for a second before rummaging in a box behind her. After sorting through a few items, she turned around with two long white sticks. 

“I found the candles, ” she said drily, tossing one to him,“ we’ll be alright.”

He caught it, his gaze never leaving hers, and he took a deep breath. 

“I’m aware that I was unreasonable back then, ” his mouth set into a tight line, “I spent enough time in hell being reminded of my sins. I never expected to come back. I made peace that you and Trunks would be better off without me. Now that I’m here…” 

He looked down, his jaw clenched. Bulma could read the torment on his face, and she stopped to consider how he might feel. Goku was still dead, and he no longer had a reason to get stronger other than to save the world. And while the Vegeta of yesteryear had matured to that point, this Vegeta was still in training pants. 

She ran her fingers through her long hair and sighed, walking over to him. She leaned against the work bench, folding her arms under her breasts. 

“I know it’s scary, Vegeta. I can’t imagine to know exactly what you’re going through. Things weren’t easy while you were gone, but we managed. You’re wrong though. Trunks and I weren’t better off without you.”

His face rose to meet hers, his eyes swimming with questions as they searched her face. 

“Trunks missed his father. And a few weeks spent in the past with another Vegeta could only do so much.”

“Just Trunks? ” he whispered, his tone desperate. 

She felt her tongue go dry as she shook her head. She remembered the last time Vegeta had looked at her with that expression of longing; it had led to their first sexual encounter. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t swimming with desire here and now. 

“Not just Trunks,” she said softly, her eyes growing wet with tears, “someone else needed you too.”

He stood slowly, making her gasp, and wiped a tear that was threatening to fall. He examined his glove briefly before looking back at her. She looked away in insecurity; he grabbed her chin to bring her focus back. 

“Vegeta….” she whispered, feeling the dam on her emotions begin to falter. 

It looked like he wanted to say something, his mouth twitching like the words were burning his tongue, but in typical Vegeta fashion, he remained silent. She grabbed the hand that touched her chin, slowly cupping it. She felt him tense, but was relieved that he didn’t move. 

“I bet I look a lot different than before, huh? ” she chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood while attending to the elephant in the room. 

He shook his head with no hesitation, his eyes serious. “You’ve gotten older, but you’re still Bulma.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. This Vegeta that stood before her was so much like the Vegeta she once knew: a multi layered complex individual, who she believed to have a softer, kinder side. And at one point, she had truly hoped that she could bring it out of him. Trunks had all but confirmed that. 

But death had changed the man before her. And she wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. 

“Oh Vegeta,” she dropped her head, deciding that she didn’t care to figure it out yet. 

She felt his grip on her chin tighten, and she raised her head to find him watching her with intense eyes, wandering over face searching for something. 

Her lips parted, feeling the familiar tug of what they once had magnetically drawing her to him. His eyes were so open, far more open than she ever remembered, and she found herself drowning in them. 

His face inched closer, the whisper of her name ghosting on her lips from his breath. She watched his lips slowly part, hungry, anxious… 

“Mom! Dad! We’re back!”

Trunks opened the door with Mai in tow, both carrying boxes and jugs of water. 

Vegeta was gone from her presence before Trunks had finished saying “mom,” standing on the wall by the door and looking bored. 

Bulma smoothed out her shirt and attempted to smile, pretending that she wasn’t rattled by what almost happened. “I’m glad you both mad it back safely. We were just about to light some candles.” 

She listened to Trunks and Mai tell about how some people were gathering supplies for families and how they brought back goodies. She watched Trunks face light up as he discussed meeting up with Gohan the next morning and introducing him to Mai. She watched as he and Vegeta shared some awkward exchanges, and noted the way Vegeta at least tried to act interested. 

She watched this scene unfold in front of her, of her family that she would have never dreamed possible, and could only think one thing:

What now?  
oooOooo 

(not gonna lie, I got pretty sad writing this. This is how I wanted the future trunks arc to end in Super tbh)


	5. Chapter 5

Prompt 59:… Or we could just make out?

oooOooo 

“Goku-sa!” Chi Chi screamed loudly to the walls of the Son home, her anger ricocheting off of the furniture. She slammed the phone down on the receiver and drummed her fingertips against the counter. 

Goku strolled in the kitchen casually a moment later, his hands crossed behind his head. “Why are you so loud, Chi Chi?” he questioned, his eyebrow perched. 

“Why am I so loud, you ask!?” her pitch did not lower, instead taking on a screeching tone, prompting Goku to cover his ears. “I just got a phone call from Bulma!” 

“Did Goten do somethin’?” Goku released his ears and took a seat at the table. “I can go talk to him on my way to trainin’ with Whis.”

“No, my sweet Goten isn’t the problem this time!” Chi Chi put her hands on her hips and glared at her husband. “Bulma tells me that you told her, Vegeta and Trunks that we’ve never kissed!” 

Goku chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Oh, well about that–” 

“IT’S NOT FUNNY GOKU-SA!” Chi Chi marched over to the table and sat down, crossing her arms and continuing her death glare. “We’ve been married for a long time with TWO kids and you have our friends under the impression that I’m not perfomin’ my wifely duties!” 

“Awwhhh, c'mon Chi Chi,” Goku tried to reason, “it’s not that big of a deal. I know I didn’t mean it like that, and Bulma should too! I was just wonderin’ why Trunks kissed that girl to give her a Senzu bean. All he had to do was put it in her mouth.”

“Then you should have said that!” 

“There’s no need to nag, Chi Chi. I can go explain it to Bulma, if you want.”

“Thats not the point,” Chi Chi pouted, her face changing into a saddened expression, “I don’t think anyone takes our marriage seriously, especially with you bein’ dead for so long. And when you say things like that…” she closer her eyes, attempting to swallow her next words, “… It makes me think you don’t take it seriously either.” 

Goku watched her face, his stomach dropping at her pained words. Did she really feel that way? Like he didn’t take it seriously? Sure, Goku wasn’t as lovey dovey with Chi Chi as other husbands, but hadn’t he shown her that he would always come back to her? That even death wouldn’t do them part? 

“That’s not true, Chi Chi,” Goku said softly, reaching across the table to stroke her hand, “I’m sorry that I made you feel like that. I’ll call Bulma and explain to her what I meant.”

Chi Chi nodded, feeling too hurt to answer him with words. 

Goku took a deep breath, knowing that wasn’t enough. 

“Maybe I can go pick some radishes for dinner.”

She said nothing. 

“Or maybe I can go to the store and get your favorite soap. You can take a bubble bath tonight.”

Still nothing.

Goku sighed. He looked around the empty kitchen, and then to the empty living room, his eyes roaming over the empty backyard….

…Goten was gone for the evening. That’s right. 

He grabbed her band with a gentle force, bringing her out of her seat and flying into his lap, her face painted with a surprised expression. 

He cradled her against his chest, his hands on her hips, and his face tilted to peer into her brown eyes. He’d always loved her eyes. They were always so honest and pure; it reminded him of how she was one of the firsts to be able to ride Kinto Un. He saw their entire history in them. How she made him love a family, before he even understood what that meant. How she gave him a home, a reason to come back every night. How, if it wasn’t for her, Gohan and Goten would have never been born, and the world as they know it might not even exist. She was his wife, and he owed her a lot more than a bubble bath and falsified words to his best friend. 

“Or,” he said huskily, “we can just make out instead. Like old times. And then I’ll call Bulma and tell her how much I love kissin’ my wife.” 

Chi Chi gasped, her cheeks the color of roses, and she playfully slapped his chest. “Goku-sa!” she breathed, inching her face towards his. “You’re so naughty. And sweet!” 

Goku chuckled and grabbed the back of her neck, closing the gap between them. He let his lips convey his message as he devoured her, relishing in how she still tasted the same after all these years. 

He would have a hell of a story to tell Bulma, by the time he was finished for the evening


	6. Chapter 6

p>“I’m off to train with Trunks!” Goten raced out of the back door, whizzing past Goku and Chi Chi.

“Wait a minute,” Goku called after him, scratching his head, “I though we were gonna so some trainin’ today.” 

Goten turned around to face him, an apologetic grin on his face while his legs ran in place. “Sorry Dad, but Trunks sounded desperate. He said Vegeta is too busy helping with the new baby to train with him.” 

Goku sighed. He already knew Vegeta was too busy, and with Gohan off in the mountains with Piccolo, he as running out of options of people. Now even his twelve year old son was turning him down. 

“Go on Goten, ” Chi Chi intervened, surprising them both, her lips curved into a warm smile, “your father has someone to train with.”

Goten’s face beamed as he waved to his parents. “Awesome! Thanks Mom. We’ll train tomorrow Dad!” he turned away from them, running to the middle of the yard before flying off into the afternoon sky. 

“Chi Chi,” Goku said with a pout, “Why’d you off and lie like that to Goten?” 

Chi Chi blinked slowly, confused. “What are you talkin about, Goku-sa? I didn’t lie!” 

“Yes you did,” he pointed an accusatory finger at her, “I told you everyone is busy and can’t train.” He sighed, cradling his arms behind his head. “Maybe Bulma wouldn’t mind if I borrowed the gravity chamber.” 

Chi Chi frowned, putting her hands on her hips and sticking her chest out. “Goku-sa! I’m very hurt that you’re not weighin’ out all your options!” 

Goku looked at her for a second, his brain pondering over her riddle. After a second he gave her a cheeky smile. “Aaah, you’re right Chi Chi!” 

Chi Chi folded her arms and smiled satisfyingly. “I knew you would figure it out, Goku-sa!”

“I can go train on King Kai’s planet!”

Chi Chi felt her body burn in irritation as she watched her husband. She marched over to him, poking her finger in his chest for emphasis. “I’M TALKING ABOUT ME, GOKU-SA!” 

Goku looked down at her and scratched his head, before bursting into a fit of chuckles. “That’s funny, Chi Chi!” 

Chi Chi blinked at him rapidly, in utter disbelief. “I’m not jokin’ around! I’m serious! I can help you train!” 

Goku caught on to her and ceased his laughter, although a grin still captured his face. “I don’t think you can help me, Chi Chi. I need someone really strong”

“Are you kiddin’ me?” she yelled, her chest expanding, “who do you think it was that trained Goten!?” 

“That’s really good and all Chi Chi, but I’m a lot stronger than Goten. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Chi Chi grinned dangerously, crouching down into a fighting stance. “I can hold my own, Goku-sa,” she licked her lips, “you know I can beat you up, right?” 

Goku couldn’t contain his laughter this time, his chest vibrating. “I don’t think you can, Chi Chi.”

Chi Chi smirked at his challenge. “Oh yeah?” She ran at him at full speed, colliding her chest with his. Catching him off guard, he landed on his back, taking her down with him.

The grass was wet on his back and he whimpered at the cold dew. He turned to face Chi Chi, who was straddling his lap, and was about to tell her that he wanted to get up, when his cheek was turned involuntarily, his skin slightly stinging. 

Chi Chi looked down at her fist, and then to his cheek, and grinned. “See?” she said proudly.

Goku turned to face her and chuckled. “that was pretty good Chi Chi, but I don’t know if it was enough to beat me up.”

Chi Chi stuck out her bottom lip and folded her arms across his chest. “you need to have more faith in me.” 

Goku laughed and attempted to get up, but his wife wouldn’t budge. He attempted again, but her knees were firmly planted in the dirt at his sides. “Chi Chi,” he groaned, “if I use my full strength, I might hurt you. I need to get up.”

Chi Chi was fighting a losing fight and she knew it. Her own pride didn’t want her to admit that Goku wouldn’t take her training seriously and it made her feel a little gloomy. But then an idea struck her. 

She couldn’t help Goku train by fighting with him. Only someone who was an equal in his strength could do that, and she could admit that they were incomparable in that aspect. But there was a certain kind of training that only she could do. 

And she would train him hard. 

She planted her palms in the center of his broad chest, enjoying the feeling of his muscles rising and falling with his breaths beneath her hands. She pushed her hips down with all her strength, eliciting a sharp breath from him. 

“Goku-sa,” she said, leaning down so that her breasts were squished against his chest, “are you sure there’s nothin’ I can do to help you out?” 

Goku tensed as her hips continued their torment. “C-Chi Chi,” he breathed out, trying to reason with his brain instead of what was growing between his legs, “we don’t have time for—” 

“Sssh,” she placed a finger on his lips, cutting him off, “you’re always spendin’ time here and there gettin stronger. How’s about puttin’ forth some of that energy and gettin’ some trainin’ in with your wife?” she bent her face down to his, replacing her finger with her lips. 

She sucked on his bottom lip, teasing him. She could feel that he was still resisting her lure, so she grinded her hips harder, feeling the start of her own arousal. Goku’s resistance broke, and she felt his hands go on either side of her hips as he finally kissed her back. 

His hands went on an exploration of her back, kneading her skin with desire, before roaming around to her front and cupping her breast, his palm pressing down on her nipple. She moaned against his lips, enticing him, and he squeezed her breast gently. She breathed his name in his mouth, and he kissed her more feverishly. 

With a swift movement, Goku brought them both to their feet, bringing Chi Chis legs around his waist. His lips descended her mouth, finding home in her smooth neck, causing her to sigh in pleasure.

“Okay, Chi Chi,” he spoke against her flesh, his tone deepening, “I’ll train with you.” 

She giggled, her small laughs turning into sighs as he continued his attack on her neck, and he moved them at am electrifying pace to their bedroom. His pillow soft lips were still rampaging her skin as he sat down on the bed, bringing her into his lap.

Chi Chi reached up and undid her bun, letting her long black hair flow down past her shoulders. Goku ran his fingers through it appreciatively. “I love you hair, Chi Chi,” he said with admiration, “it always smells like cherry blossoms.”

She looked down at him, blushing at the rare compliment, and became overwhelmed with the onset emotions that washed over her. God, she loved this man. He was her first everything, and she had shared an entire life with him that she wouldn’t change, no matter how many dragon balls were offered to her.

She reached down to the hem of her shirt and brought it smoothly over her head, her small perky breasts demanding to be touched by Goku. He watched her, his eyes drinking her in, looking at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. 

“Beautiful, Chi Chi, ” he whispered, and then he covered her pink nipple with his mouth.

She groaned at the sensation as Goku’s tongue lavished her breast, and ran her fingers through his hair. It had been ages since he touched her like this, and although she didn’t blame him, it was moments like this when she wished she could stop time and lose herself in the ecstasy of her husband.

Goku held her up with one hand, and used the other to roam down to the waist band of her pants, infiltrating the fabric. He moved past her panties, his fingers searching for the warmth that lay beneath, and smiled against her skin when he felt a small crop of hair, damp with her arousal. 

She sucked in quick breath of air as he found her nub and stroked it, feeling electricity circulate through her stomach. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling like she would melt then and there in his lap, leaving nothing behind buy a satisfying sigh. 

He groaned as his fingers became more slick, but he grew unsatisfied. He removed his hands completely and quickly lifted then both off the bed and laying her down, removing the remainder of their clothes in the process. 

Marrying a Saiyan sure had its perks. 

He hovered above her, studying her milky skin and her cherried cheeks. Her face carried a question and her lips parted to ask it. 

“Is everythin’ okay, Goku-sa?”

He ignored her, still memorized by her flushed beauty. He smiled to himself as he grabbed both of her knees, spreading them widely, and occupied the small space of mattress in between her legs. 

Lowering his head, he gazed at her between his fluffy lashes, locking his eyes into hers. Not breaking contact, he lowered his mouth to her most private of parts and devoured her. 

She gasped sharply, resting her head back on the bed as he feasted upon her. She tasted unfairly sweet, and his tongue lapped her up like it was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten, which said a lot for a man like him. His name escaped her lips in broken syllables, giving Goku the motivation to suck harder, lick harder, make her come undone. 

He kissed the insides of her thighs as he brought up a finger to her wet opening, touching it with the familiarity that only came with years of experimentation. Once upon a time, Goku and Chi Chi had to learn each other, both new to any sort of foreplay, and after years of being told where to touch and how to touch it, he prided himself on giving her pleasure that no one else could rival. 

He pressed his finger in, finding home in the softness of her core, and she groaned in the deep spaces of her chest, gripping his untamed hair and tangling it between her fingers. He moved faster, in and out and in and out, feeling her skin growing more hot. He moaned against her flesh, feeling her spill into his mouth unapologetically. She arched her back and lifted her hips from the bed, resting against his free hand. 

Chi Chi felt like she was being electrocuted from the inside out, like Goku was draining everything she was and filling her up with something entirely new. His tongue continued his wicked dance, his finger filling her with a heated pace, and the familiar surge of an orgasm raced through her belly.

Knowing it would be intense, and predicting that she would be spent afterwards, she changed her mind and pulled him up to her with a strength that left him surprised. She brought his head down to hers so that she could taste them both, and he pressed into her, letting her have her way with his mouth. 

Her hand glided down to his solid erection, and she stroked it gently as she guided it to her opening. He entered her swiftly, yet gently, and they both breathed deeply as he adjusted to the curves of her body. He moved slowly at first, allowing her to fit around him properly, until she moaned in impatience, urging him to go faster. 

He complied, stealing another kiss before moving to her breasts, showing each individual attention. His hips swayed rhythmically against her own, and as their heated lovemaking erupted, he leaves his torso up, resting his weight on one arm and using the other to grip her thigh at his side. She mewled at the deeper penetration, wanting to tell him how good it felt, but her words became tangled up in her ecstasy. 

“C-Chi… ” Goku attempted to say, his forehead tensing as the white hot onset of an orgasm began to tickle his belly. Chi Chi reached out to him, finding herself losing control, and with his help, flipped him over on his back so that she could ride him to the waves of oblivion. 

She started slowly, trying to milk the last precious moments before they both became swept in an orgasmic wave, and leaned down to kiss him. Her hips broke their steady rhythm as she felt the end approaching, and she sat up and arched her back, intertwining her fingers with his.

“Go-Go…ku…,” she panted, losing all sense of reason, “I’m gonna cu~” 

Her mouth hung open as she became swallowed in the affairs of her lust, grateful that Goku took over, thrusting his hips from the bed to plunge into her. She became unrwastically wet as she rode the waves of an intense orgasm, and the feeling was too much to bare for him as he was struck by his own. 

In perfect synch, their bodies naturally took over as they lost themselves in their marital bliss, neither wanting to come down from nirvana. Their movements slowed as they ended their journey, both struggling to catch their breath. Chi Chi twitched as she became too sensitive, and Goku saw to her needs, removing himself from her. 

She stayed on top of him, collapsing on his chest as his muscular arms cradled her. Their labored breaths filled the room as they bathed in the haze of aftersex, an undeniable glow washing over them. 

“So, ” Chi Chi breathed out, feeling sleep begin to tug at the corners of her mind, “how was that for trainin’?” 

Goku laughed, moving her hair out of her face and kissing the top of her forehead. “I feel like I had an intense workout,” he said drowsily, “I guess you did beat me up.” 

She punched him in the chest weakly. “Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.” 

“Sure, ” he said, getting interrupted by the growling of his stomach. “ Say, Chi Chi? When’s dinner? I’m hungry.”

Chi Chi shook her head against his chest, laughing to herself. Goku had definitely earned himself a meal, but he would have to wait first. 

oooOooo 

So this was supposed to be up HOURS AGO, but Tumblr deleted it and I had to write it all over again. 

I hope I made up for the delay 

Vegebul prompt will be written later on tonight, because I’m pooped haha. But I won’t forget about you, other Anon. 


	7. Chapter 7

oooOooo 

She hadn’t meant to get so emotional. This was supposed to a regular ‘run of the mill’ conversation, one that she practiced for hours in the mirror, and while feeding Trunks, and while combing her hair. 

She just wanted to tell him that she was worried about him. She wanted to know if he needed someone to talk to since he hadn’t left his room in the past couple of months. Hell, she wanted to remind him that he had a child, for fucks sake, and being a single parent wasn’t a part of her agenda, especially since he was healthy and alive. 

But when those onyx eyes peered into hers, full of ice and distance, accompanied with those frost bitten words he spoke:

“I don’t want to be bothered with you or anyone else anymore,”

She lost it. 

Her eyes stung with hurtful tears, trying to figure out the man that stood before her. She had been willing to let him go before, on the account of him training to beat the androids and all, but Cell was dead. And it seemed he was even more distant than he was when he was in the middle of space, if that was even possible. 

She thought they found some sort of middle ground when they shared that passionate night all those months back, but then Vegeta closed himself completely off, remaining in his room in the hidden corner of the compound, only coming out to grab a plate and go back. 

And she had enough. 

“You ungrateful bastard, ” she seethed, feeling her cheeks go hot, “what is your problem? You have a son that needs you, and a… WHATEVER the hell I am, willing to do anything for you, and you speak those words to me?” she felt the slippery salty tears cascade down her cheeks, and she hadn’t wanted to appear weak in front of him, but she let them fall unapologetically. 

His eyes softened momentarily, but he turned from her before she could call him out on it. “Let me be, Bulma,” his voice sounded despondent, and she could practically taste the self pity inflicted in his words, “I didnt ask for any of this.”

“You…didn’t…ask…,” she blinked in disbelief at his arrogance, as if she purposely planned to put herself in this situation, “what do you think?! That I want to be in this pretend relationship with myself? That I want to watch Trunks reach milestones that his own father won’t bother himself to admire? You think I want to be having this conversation with you?” 

“Then why are you? ”

“Because I care!” 

“Tch,” Vegeta shook his head and made her blood boil, “that was your primary problem. No one asked you to.”

“Well excuse me for falling in love with you, Vegeta!” 

The silence slept between them at her admission, finally being spoken out loud. She looked away, wondering if she shouldn’t have said it, especially to someone who didn’t seem to give a damn. His back muscles twitched, and he looked at her over his shoulder. She expected him to mock her, to click his teeth and walk away, but instead he furrowed his eyebrows together, his face unreadable, and said:

“Love is wasted on someone like me. ”

Oh. 

She felt herself soften slightly at his statement, noticing how he looked like a puppy picked over in a litter, except he didn’t know how to express it. “Too bad,” she said in a hushed but a stern voice, “because I can’t change the way I feel.” She ran her fingers through her short blue hair, feeling overwhelmed with this entire ordeal. 

Vegeta turned slowly to face her, to her surprise, and walked to her. “I’m a warrior,” he said dangerously, “who would kill everyone on this planet without a second thought. I have fucked whores for little next to a penny and killed them because they didn’t get my cock hard enough, all for the pure thrill. By my hand, your ex boyfriend was killed, and I have tried on numerous occasions to kill who you call your best friend. And you say you love me? ”

Bulma took a deep breath at his words. Yes, by all accounts, Vegeta was a terrible person. He was cold and ruthless, selfish and arrogant, and he toyed with her feelings like a child. 

But… 

“You’re not the person anymore,” she stepped closer to him, hesitantly reaching out to touch his face, “that Vegeta was lost under the hand of Frieza. That Vegeta was purposeless and didn’t know any better.”

“I am that Vegeta.”

“You think you’re that Vegeta, but I see differently, and Goku did too,” she swallowed thickly, pushing back the sadness that accompanied the death of her best friend, “and we’re not wrong. Try to deny it all you want to, but you’re not in this room because you hate us, you’re in here because you’re grieving.” 

He looked at her in astonishment and anger, wanting to reach back as she touched his cheek, but she continued. “We all miss him, and we all have our reasons for missing him. The Vegeta that came to Earth all those years ago would have relished in the fact that he was dead. And I don’t care what your reasons are, you wish he was still alive, just like I do.” 

He wanted to tell her she was wrong, but her truth wrapped him in a cocoon tightly, suffocating his rebuttal. She watched his Adams apple raise as he swallowed, looking off to the side and clicking his teeth. 

She placed her other hand on his cheek, bringing his face to hers. Her blue eyes drew him in, and he hated the reflection of himself that he saw in the depths of them. “What are you afraid of, Vegeta?” she said, practically a whisper. 

The question threw him off, and he wanted to run away entirely, but his feet were cement blocks. “I fear nothing,” he said sternly. 

“Then why are you afraid of being loved, ” her voice choked momentarily, “and loving back?” 

He didn’t know how to answer her; every word that threatened to leave his tongue was too bitter to taste. Should he admit that he didn’t know how to love? That somewhere deep inside of him, he thought she was too good for him to even try? That love was blasphemy to a Saiyan, and that he hated himself for even pondering the idea that maybe he felt something for her, for Trunks? 

“Vegeta,” she said, bringing her forehead to his. Why hadn’t he walked away yet? “I’m not asking for you to be someone you’re not. I’m just asking that you try to be who you are. And stop running from it.”

This is who I am, he wanted to say, but truthfully he didn’t know anymore, and he hated it. 

He watched her watch him, and he hadn’t realized that one of his hands was slowly bringing his way up to her cheek, unable to break away from her hypnotism. Her lips parted slowly and he cursed her witchy ways as she wrapped her lips around his. 

She tasted his resistance, she let his fear coat her tongue and she swallowed it, taking every part of himself he hated and making it her own. She pressed her body to his, pushing him backwards in the doorway. She had just wanted to talk with him, but then again, they had always used their bodies to communicate what their mouths could not. 

He dropped to the bed when they reached it, taking her with him, and he impatiently unbuttoned her shirt, breaking several of them. She removed his spandex top, bending down to kiss his chest, tattooing her name on his flesh so that everyone would know he was hers. She raised back up to kiss him, and smiled against his lips when she realized he was willing to taste her. 

Her hips took on a rhythm of their own as she felt him grow beneath her, and they moaned in unison. His hands went on an exploration, fumbling with her jean shorts as his mouth took over her heavy breasts, sucking on her nipples as if they were the last thing he would ever taste. 

She sighed as she grabbed the back of his head, losing herself in his tongue. Her pants were lowered to her ankles as he removed his election swiftly, and she felt him approach her entrance. She wiggled slightly to guide him, catching her breath as their bodies joined. 

He was watching her as she took him all in, his forehead wrinkled at the pleasured intrusion, and she kissed him again. They moved together in unison, each movement saying phrases that they dare not speak out loud. Or him, anyways. 

For someone who wouldn’t say he loved her, he was holding on to her hips territorially as she stroked him. For someone who wouldn’t say he loved her, he kissed her neck with a gentleness that she was sure no one else had been accustomed to. For someone who wouldn’t say he loved her, he let her name slip off of his lips as if it had always belonged there, and SD ifbhe was always meant to have said it. 

For someone who wouldn’t say he loved her, he made love to her like he did. 

And he let her make love to him like he accepted. 

She rode him faster as she felt her orgasm approaching, grabbing the back of his neck for support. His thighs tensed under her as she continued her relentless riding, and their moans and pants filled the room. They hadn’t even closed the door, she realized much too late, but both were too far gone to care.

Right before lightening struck her, she reached down to his ear and purred an “I love you, Vegeta,” before the orgasm took her as its prisoner, blinding all sense of reason as she swam in it. 

He came with her, panting her name softly, but she heard it. He fell backwards, she collapsing on his chest, and attempted to catch his breath. She wrapped her arms around his waist as she lay there, listening to his heart beat. Hesitantly, but overwhelmed with the naturalness of it all, he wrapped his arms around her middle. She smiled. 

“Is the boy walking yet? ” he asked gruffly. 

She nodded against his bronzed chest. “He’s still learning, but he’s determined. He can walk a good distance without falling.” 

Vegeta remained silent for a moment, his jaw clenching. Finally, he sighed. “He is at the right level to begin training. I will work with him in the morning, after we have breakfast.” 

Bulma nodded, her heart beaming with joy. Vegeta agreeing to train Trunks was a promise, she hoped, and maybe she had gotten through to him. “I’ll make sure to ask Mom to make a big one for you guys, so you can have a lot of fuel and stamina.” 

He grunted as one hand lazily stroked her bare back. She closed her eyes and let the afternoon nap take over her, for the first time in a long time feeling optimistic about everything. 

And she liked it. A lot.   
oooOooo 

Here you go Anon! Thanks for the prompt! 

Also, one day I’m going to try to stop writing sad things. Geeze


	8. Chapter 8

Bulma applied the last bit of mascara to her eyes and glanced in the mirror. Perfection. She astonished herself at being able to complete her makeup in record time with a newborn daughter. Fifteen minutes and she looked like a million bucks. 

Warm arms wrapped around her waist, almost startling her. She looked over her shoulder to see Vegeta’s flamed hair resting on her shoulder, taking a deep breath. 

“You okay, hun?” she asked, rubbing chapstick on her lips. 

He nodded against her skin, gripping his arms around her tighter. He was being needy, and after being with him for a little longer than a decade, she could read his signs like the back of her hand. 

She chuckled and turned around in his grasp, moving his pointed hair out of the way. He picked up his head momentarily as she moved, and then placed his forehead back on her chest. 

She wrapped her arms around his back, resting against the edge of the sink. “Have you missed me or something, Vegeta?” 

He clicked his teeth, although she knew the answer was yes. She had agreed to let him do some training for a few weeks, and he had returned this morning. After catching Trunks up to some father son gravity chamber shenanigans, it seemed like it as her turn to get his attention. 

“Aren’t you cute? ” she grinned, rubbing her cheek against his temple. 

“You smell nice,” he mumbled against her chest. 

“I decided to not look so dead for once, since Bra had finally given me a break. I’m glad you noticed.”

He kissed the the top of her chest before straightening his body, trapping her between the sink. “Did you miss me?” 

“Of course, ” she kissed his lips, leaning back against the sink again, “I hope you’ll stick around for a bit. I know the tournament is coming up and all, but I hope you’ll make time for your beautiful wife.” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he bent down to brush his lips against her neck. 

Bulma chuckled, enjoying how affectionate Vegeta was feeling. He wasn’t always like this, but whenever he was feeling frisky, she drowned herself in the moment. No one would probably believe how sentimental he could sometimes be. Especially 18, who commented how sorry she felt for Bulma at times. 

Her eyes widened as an idea struck her. Her hands slyly went to her back pocket while the other wrapped around Vegeta’s shoulder. Swiftly, she brought her phone around, pressing open the video camera. Her finger pressed down on the record button as she stared at the mirror image of the two of them. 

“Oh Vegeta, ” she hummed as his lips ravished her neck, “I love you.”

He sucked her skin, letting his lips draw away with a loud ‘pop!’ as he mumbled, “love you too.”

She giggled, looking at him in the eyes. “How much?” 

He smirked at her. “If I was forced to purge this planet,” 

“Uh huh.”

“I would give you a running start.”

“Oh, Geeze how beautiful,” she said sarcastically, her eyebrow wiggling for him to try again. 

He took a deep breath. “If Cabba makes good on his word and takes me to Planet Salad, I will formally declare you as the Queen of all Saiyans.”

“Thats more like it,” she purred, kissing him again. She tried to pull away, but he leant in for another hungry kiss, reaching down and cupping her plump assets. 

Bulma chuckled again as he went back to kissing her neck, and she sighed as he hit her sweet spot. Realizing that she should stop the recording before she made a sex tape, she unreleased the record button, her phone making a chiming sound. 

Instantly Vegeta stopped. “What was that?” 

“Oh nothing, ” she tried to wave him off. 

“Don’t lie to me, Bulma,” he turned around to catch her red handed. He looked at her, his expression serious. 

“Delete it. Now. ”

“ Oh come on Vegeta! We don’t have any cute moments on film! ”

“ And we won’t start now! Delete it.”

“You’re no fun, ” she pouted, going to the options on her phone. Hesitantly, she deleted the short video. She turned the phone around to show him. “See, happy? It’d all gone your highness.”

He looked at the blank screen and nodded, satisfied. “As it should be.” He unwrapped his arms around her, reaching down to grab a towel. “I’m off for a shower. When I get out, I’d like to eat dinner.” She scoffed as he turned away from her, stopping just before he reached the shower door. “And if you’re a good little Earthling, I just might have you for desert.”

Bukma laughed and blushed, tossing her head back. “Now who’s vulgar?” He grunted and disappeared behind the fogged glass. 

She waited until he could no longer see her, and brought the phone to her face, smiling wickedly. “Poor Vegeta,” she whispered, removing an SD card from the slot, “you’ve really got to do better at figuring out your wife.”

18 would never criticize them again.   
OooOooo


	9. Chapter 9

p>oooOooo

“And pressing this button will let you look inside of the Gravity Chamber. Once in a while I have to check on your father and make sure he’s not overdoing it.”

Mirai Trunks paid close attention to Bulma’s tour of her laboratory, which was completely different from the last time he had been here. He couldn’t help but think of how much the mother of his time line would be impressed. The thought of her brought a heavy weight to his stomach and he dropped his head, feeling less of a man, less of a Saiyan. A disgrace to even call himself the son of a prince. 

Bulma picked up on his somber mood and placed a hand on his shoulder. He raised his head and looked at her, reciprocating her warm smile. 

“Hey, Trunks, ” she said soothingly, “everything will be alright. Your father won’t let you down.” 

He nodded, instantly being comforted by her words. He studied her face, much younger than the mom he remembered, clean of the pain that had been etched in the line of her future counterparts skin. It was a small victory in his eyes that he had a part in her being so happy, but his heart ached for the Bulma that he would never see again. 

Her watch went off and she sighed, shaking her head. “Sorry, Trunks,” she smiled apologetically, “I have to go take a conference call. Can I leave you down here for a bit?” 

“Yes, mother. I’ll be fine.”

She squeezed his shoulder, tempted to run her hand through his hair. She wasn’t sure how much he would appreciate it now, considering he was a man and not the teenager she had last seen . “It shouldn’t take longer than an hour. 

He nodded, squeezing her hand gently, and watched her leave.

The light on the dashboard lit up, indicating that someone was occupying the Gravity Chamber. Curious to see what kind of training his father was preparing to do, he switched the monitor on, red lights instantly infiltrating the screen. 

Vegeta and the younger Trunks were stretching their legs, preparing for a session. It was odd seeing a face that once belonged to him training with the father that he barely knew. He watched them closely, pretending that he was watching some sort of home video. 

“Papa, when are you going to teach me your attack?” Kid Trunks resorted to doing a one arm pushup, sweat dripping down his forehead from the intense gravity. 

Vegeta punched the air at rapid speeds, his arms moving so fast that even Mirai Trunks had a hard time keeping up. “When you’re older and have gotten stronger. You couldn’t handle either of my attacks right now at your level.” 

Kid Trunks pouted, changing positions to do some sit-ups. Mirai Trunks had to admit that he was taken aback at how strong his younger counterpart was. “I’ll get stronger, Papa, just you wait. I’ll be as strong as Bigger Me is.” 

Vegeta nodded, continuing his string of punches. “You will be stronger than either one of us, Trunks. You should always want to be the strongest, and settle for nothing short of that.”

Mirai Trunks smiled. Goku had told him that Vegeta had matured in the years he was away, but seeing him being such a father gave him a bittersweet feeling. 

Was this the life he would have had, if his own time line wasn’t so fucked up? Would he be a kid who got the luxury to train with his father in a high powered chamber? Would he have befriended the second son of Goku, instead of being heartbroken at having lost the first? 

Would he have an actual family, instead of playing house with the past? 

“Trunks!” Vegeta broke his thoughts, his voice echoing through the lab. He watched the screen to see what he would say to Kid Trunks, but the boy looked confused. 

“I’m talking to you! ” Vegeta turned to face the monitor, his eyes glowing red from the lights of the chamber, “if you’re going to spy on us, the least you could do is be aware that the monitor is showing your face.” 

Trunks felt his face go hot in embarrassment, and he scratched the back of his head. “S-sorry, father. I didn’t realize.” 

“Hmph, of course you didn’t. I’m sure Bulma doesn’t have time to explain everything to you.”

“She went on a conference call. She said she’ll be back in an hour.”

“Well what are you waiting on?” Vegeta’s face grew impatient, “are you coming to train with us or not? There’s a lot I can reach you in an hour.”

Trunks felt a ball of emotion well in his throat, and he sucked in a breath of air. Vegeta was including him, as well? 

“Won’t I be intruding?” he asked, although he really just wanted to say “Absolutely, Father! I’m coming right now!” but the Vegeta that he knew all those years ago still burned in his mind, and he didn’t want to ignite the flame on his anger. “It looks like a father and son training session.” 

“Don’t be stupid!” Kid Trunks and Vegeta screamed at the same time, and Mirai Trunks chuckled at how alike they sounded. His mother was right; he really was the spitting image of his father. 

Vegeta shot the younger Trunks a look, and the boy went back to his sit-ups. Vegeta turned back to the monitor, his eyes serious and determined. “Trunks,” he spoke sternly, “are you not my son?” 

My son. 

Mirai Trunks had not realized just how badly he wanted to hear those words come from his father. He didn’t realize that as an almost 30 year old man, he could be completely spun anew at the recognition of being the son of a Saiyan Prince. 

My son. 

He swallowed thickly, wiping his eyes with the back of his jacket sleeve. He looked at his father with a new level of respect . This was the Vegeta that his mother said she believed existed. This was the father that he dreamed about as he lay in bed at night, wondering what it would be like to have a warrior to look up to right under his nose. He wasn’t experiencing this third party anymore; Vegeta was acknowledging that no matter the time line , no matter the age difference, any Trunks was his son. 

He wondered exactly what had transpired the change. 

“Hey!” Vegeta shouted, “are you just going to continue to stare at me or are you coming!?” 

“W-what? ” Trunks shook his head, having been startled out of his thoughts. 

“I said stop looking at me like that, Weirdo!” Vegeta smiled, lowering his tone “and come train with your old man. I have something I’d like to show you that might aid us in this fight.” 

“Yes!” Trunks nodded, a smile plastered on his lips that threatened to split his face in two. He eagerly shut off the monitor, lest Vegeta changed his mind all together. 

Trunks wasn’t grateful for much these days, feeling like everything he ever cared about having been ripped from under his feet. 

But in this moment, he was grateful to be the son of Vegeta, one of the greatest warriors he ever knew.   
oooOooo 

Honestly, truly, if anyone deserves some daddy son bonding time, it’s Future Trunks. Bless that guy

I will be writing the other prompts tomorrow. I am dragging my butt to bed.


	10. Chapter 10

OooOooo 

“Come out of there, Vegeta!”

“NO!”

Bulma sighed, leaning against the bathroom door. She pursed her cherry red lips and kicked the bottom of the door lightly with her foot. “Do I need to come in there?”

“Do it and you’ll be sorry, Bulma!” 

She chuckled to herself at his ‘threat,’ resting her chin under her finger. “If you don’t come out, Bra will never forgive you.” 

There was silence behind the wooden door, and she smiled with satisfaction. Playing the Bra card was the easiest way to get her husband to comply. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but the half Saiyan Princess had him wrapped around her finger, giving Bulma nostalgia. Bra was her mother’s daughter in far more ways than her looks. 

Speaking of the devil, the five year old Bulma doppelganger strolled in their bedroom, her cheeks puffy and her lip pouted, clenching her tiny fists at the side of her pink party dress. 

“Mama!,” she exclaimed, her blue eyes alive with fire, “what’s taking so long? All of my friends are calling me a liar, and Bra is not a liar!”

Bulma had to keep her bought of laughter concealed as she drank in her daughter’s wounded pride. She was definitely her father’s daughter, too. 

“Your father is coming, sweetie. He is just having some… ” she glanced at the door,“…technical difficulties.” 

Bra stuck out her chest and marched to the door, taking her mother’s spot as she moved out of the way. “Papa!” she yelled as she knocked, “You’re taking forever!” 

Vegeta could be heard sighing in the bathroom, and Bulma could vision him mouthing a string of curses and punching the air. But she didn’t feel sorry for him at all. This was his fault for telling Bra she could have whatever she wanted. 

“This is silly, Bra, ” he said finally, his tone trying to sound authorative. 

Bra took a deep breath, trying to reign in her angry tantrum that was surfacing. Bulma mimicked her, bracing herself for her daughters unrivaled emotional breakdown. 

“Papa! You’re going to make Bra cry! I’m not supposed to cry on my birthday! ” Her eyes shone with tears as her face reddened, showing that she was far from lying. She sniffled as alligator tears raced down her face. Bulma had to hand it to her daughter; she really knew how to manipulate. She felt sorry for whomever Bra decided to date in the future. 

“Papa…! ” her was voice milky with tears. 

The door knob rattled and Bulma smiled, knowing the battle was over. It opened slowly, creaking in dramatics, and Vegeta emerged. 

Dressed head to toe in a brown, fluffy monkey suit, his face showing discomfort in the cut out. 

Bra clapped her hands excitedly, clearly over her tantrum. “You look so good, Papa!” she exclaimed, throwing her small arms around his waist. “And when you do your tricks, everyone is going to love it!” 

Vegeta groaned, his face red with embarrassment. He looked over at his wife, who was barely stifling her laugher. “Is Kakarot here too?” he asked in a pouty tone. 

Bulma nodded, trying to swallow down her chuckles. “He was the first to arrive with Chi Chi and Goten, followed by Gohan, Videl and Pan.”

Vegeta looked like he was going to die. “…and Piccolo?” 

“Would never miss this. He was carrying Pan.”

Vegeta grimaced. “Krillin?” 

“Brought a huge gift for Bra. Along with 18 and Marron.”

Fucking fantastic. 

“Everyone’s here, Papa!” Bra jumped up and down, “all of you and Mama’s friends and Bra’s too! And Trunks and Goten said they would record everything so we could watch it later!” 

Vegeta grit his teeth. Trunks sure was turning into a little shit. He was willing to bet that the lavender haired teen was the first to offer his ‘services’. 

“Can you roar for me, Papa? ” Bra crouched into a stance, opening her mouth wide. 

Vegeta’s face took on a new shade of red. “Monkey’s don’t roar, Bra.”

Bra puffed her cheeks and stomped her feet. Taking a deep breath, she screamed at the top of her lungs:“BUT YOU SAID THAT SAIYANS USED TO ROAR WHEN THEY TURNED INTO A GREAT APE AND I WANT TO SEE, PAPA! PLEASE FOR MY BIRTHD–” 

“ALRIGHT! ” Vegeta groaned again, seeing so much of his wife in Bra. He took a stance that best resembled his Ozaru form, remembering what it felt like to turn into a Great Ape. Digging deep into the middle of his chest, he roared as loud as he could, delighting Bra. 

And making Bulma lose it. 

“Thanks Papa! ” she grabbed his hand as hugged it, pressing it to her cheek. “I’m going to go downstairs and tell everyone you’re coming! I’m so excited, this is the best birthday ever!” She skipped out of the room humming, her party dress sashaying behind her. 

“Can you stop already?! ” Vegeta balled his fists at his wife, who was currently doubled over in a laughing fit and clutching her stomach. 

“ I-I’m sor..sorry, ” she said in between breaths. 

Vegeta folded his arms, looking away embarrassed. “You don’t have to make this worse, you know.”

Bulma collected herself and stood up, walking towards her husband. She placed her hand on his shoulder, resting her chin on top of it and smiled warmly at him. “I’m sorry, but that was adorable.”

Vegeta shifted his eyes to her. “I don’t look stupid?” 

“No, you look like a father who wants his daughter to have a good birthday.” she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, leaning in his hear. “And a treat for Bra is a treat for you later, mister.”

A ghost of a smile lingered on his lips and he turned from her. “Fine. I’m ready. But you better hold true to your word later.”

“Thats my monkey man,” she grabbed his well toned butt, and he shoved her hand away, making her laugh all over again. 

This would be a birthday party for the record books.   
OooOooo 

…. I laughed so hard writing this

Also sorry if this wasnt what you were looking for, but I couldn’t help myself. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless :)


	11. Chapter 11

p>oooOooo

“Will you hold still?” Bulma jerked on the bandages of Vegeta’s arm, making him come closer to her. He grit his teeth as a snarl escaped his lips. 

She swallowed. Even though she wanted him to stop his moving around, the danger that hung over him like a dark cloud was unnerving, and she wasn’t about to sign her death certificate. 

“I don’t require your help, ” he said bitterly, turning away from her, “so you can leave my presence.” 

“Absolutely not,” she gathered some antiseptic and cotton balls from the toolbox at her feet, “Goku asked me to watch after you and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” 

Vegeta growled, his canines curling over his bottom lip. “Damn that Kakarot,” he snarled, “if I had the strength, I’d kill him along with everyone else on this backwater planet.”

“I bet you would,” Bulma tried to appear unfazed by his threat, but after watching his lengthy fight on television earlier, accompanied by the death of Yamcha, she had no doubt in her mind that he would cause harm to everyone on Earth. Her only saving grace, the only reason why she was helping him out in the first place, was because of Goku. 

She rubbed the wet cotton ball in the scratch on his forearm, and he sucked his teeth. She glanced at him, feeling a bit of spirit behind her words. “You took a beating like that, but you can’t handle a little antiseptic?” 

He turned to glare at her, making her freeze in her movements. “Watch it girl,” he warned icily, “Dont make the last words you may speak have false courage. The only thing stopping me right now is the pain I am in, and the lack of a regeneration tank.”

She looked at him quizzically, her fear forgotten. “Regeneration tank? What’s that?” 

He stared back at her in silence, his eyes unforgiving and cold. 

“Seriously. You must know by being down here that I’m a scientist. I’m interested in what that is.”

He scoffed, his jaw clenching. The ticks of the clock behind them became maddening to her ears, and she watched his face for some sort of resolution. 

“They are tanks filled with a healing fluid. It can heal any part of the body and cure just about any sort of physical ailment.”

Her expression brightened as he finally told her, and she couldn’t stop the smile that stole her face. “So cool,” she whispered, “a special kind of healing liquid? That sounds like the Krentenine Liquid we’ve been working on.”

He whipped his head around to her, jerking his arm from her grasp and placing his hands roughly on her shoulders. “Explain yourself. Now! Do you have regeneration fluid on this planet? ”

She gulped as she stared into the eyes of a murderer, shaking under his firm hold.“ W-well it’s not like how you describe it. I-it’s not a tank, it’s designed as a drink–”

“A drink?!? ”

“Y-yes!” she cleared her throat, trying to appear more confident. “Yes. I was trying to make a prototype for the senzu bean, for Goku and the others. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to travel so far to get them.”

“And what’s the efficiency rate?” He dug his hands deeper into her flesh. 

“You’re hurting me! ”

“The efficiency rate! What is it?!” 

“It’s still in the early stages! ” Between the pain in her arm and the barrel of questions he was throwing at her, Bulma found herself getting irritated. She had no idea if the elixir would work yet, as she hadn’t had a specimen to try it out on, but for all she cared, he could drink it and be poisoned. “Try it out if you want, just let go of me!”

“And where is it?” He leaned in close to her face, close enough that she could taste his breath, and she licked her lips in hesitation. 

“In the cabinet behind me. Top shelf.”

He grunted and threw her to the side, tossing her like she was acid on his fingers. He marched to the cabinet and threw the door open, almost knocking it off the hinges. He grabbed two bottles of the elixir and laughed wildly, throwing his head back. “I can’t believe it, but this is the stuff!” he brought the glass bottles to his eyes examining it, “the same color and consistency. You are a fucking genius, woman.”

“ Gee, thanks. ”

“After I drink this, I’ll run off to kill Kakarot and that son of a bitch that cut off my tail. And for helping me, I might let you live. You could be of great importance.” He took the lids off the bottles, bringing them to his lips. “I’ll take two for good measure.”

Bulma’s eyes widened, rising to her knees.“What did you just say?” 

Vegeta gulped down the bottles, ignoring the woman on the floor who’s mouth was wide opened, her face painted in horror. “Oh no…”

Vegeta shook his head, feeling the effects take over. “Fucking disgusting,” he mumbled, “but I’m feeling my strength returning! I suppose it was best to take two.”

“Vegeta–” 

“Silence woman!” he laughed maniacally, clenching his fists tightly as he felt his muscles strengthen. He felt a strange sensation in his back as brown fur invaded his peripherals. “Astounding!” he gloated, his laughter increasing in volume, “and my tail is back as well! Woman you may have really saved your life now!” 

“But Vegeta, there weren’t two bottles! ”

He turned to her, his eyes widening. “Liar,” he breathed, “there were two bottles of green liquid–”

“–And only one of them was the Krentenine Liquid! I only had a sample for a small vile! ”

Vegeta swallowed, a manic look taking over his eyes. “And the other?” 

“I’m not sure! ” she screamed frantically, “I need to see the bottle!”

He walked over to her instantly, gripping the bottle so tightly the glass began to crack. With every step that he approached her, the intoxicating perfume she wore infiltrated his nostrils. His breath began to hitch, his pupils dilating. The curves of her waist began to stand out more to him, along with her heavy breasts. He shook his head and growled. 

Bulma reached for the bottle when he neared, ignoring the hungry look in his eye as he watched her. She turned the bottle upside down , reading the small label imprinted on the bottom. Her fears were accurate. “Oh God no…”

She felt something warm against her leg and she gasped, trying to pull away from it. Looking down, she saw Vegetas tail wrapped securely around her thigh, holding her in place. “It’s happening already.”

Vegeta’s half lidded stare swallowed her, his body beginning to close the gap between them. “What’s wrong, woman? What did I drink?” his voice was a little huskier; a little more hypnotizing. 

She swallowed hard, the end of his tail beginning to tickle the inside of her thigh. “I-it’s a funny story actually,”

“Uh huh, ” he leaned in closer, his tail inching up to the hemline of her dress. 

“My father’s colleague was having a sort of…problem…”

“Go on,” he studied the blues in her eyes, wondering why he had never noticed how engaging they were before. 

“Y-you see, he was having a hard time being attracted to his wife anymore.”

“And what’s this have to do with me, little female? ” His face gravitated towards hers, his tail going just under her dress. 

Bulma gasped, half wanting to pull away from him, and half of her enjoying the warmth of his tail on her leg. Why did he have to be so wickedly handsome?

“He had problems being attracted to her… Sexually. ”

Vegeta froze, his eyes opening back up.“ Are you telling me that you gave me some sort of sex hypnosis drink? ”

She nodded hesitantly. “And the drink negates the chemicals of the Krentenine. Long story short, neither drink will last for more than an hour before the effects wear off. After that, you’ll be back at square one.” 

Vegetas face contorted to something sinister as rage washed over his features. He opened his mouth to say something, his hands approaching her. Bulma closed her eyes as she braced for his impact, and for the end of her life. 

She felt his hot breath on her ear, whispering :

“Then perhaps we should make the most of this hour, shouldn’t we? ”

And then his lips were on hers.

She froze, completely startled. Sex hypnosis or not, Vegeta was still kissing her. The dark prince, the destroyer of worlds, her potential killer, was currently sticking his tongue in her mouth. 

And that god forsaken tail of his was playing with the edge of her panties. 

And the most disturbing fact of all, was that she was oddly enjoying it. 

She melted into the kiss, moving her lips alongside his as if she had been properly conditioned to do so, her clammy hands grabbing onto the fabric of his spandex top to pull him closer. A moan ghosted from her lips, shocking her at how much her body was screaming yes to this, and she found herself being pushed back to the metal workbench in the lab.

Vegeta pulled his lips away, his breathing erratic. “Woman,” he said his voice dripping low with lust, “I am many things, but I do not believe in what is not consensual. That is beneath me as a prince. If you do not want this, tell me to stop.”

Bulma caught her breath. Was he… Was he being a gentlemen? Vegeta?! She was surprised, and even more turned on, at his thoughtful gesture. So she controlled whether or not this devious act continued, eh? 

The decision wasn’t hard, what with his tail between her legs, and the warmth of his lips still lingering on hers. With a shaky breath, she nodded, finding a small voice inside of her to say while looking him squarely in the eyes:

“Don’t stop.”

He smirked, and went back to ravishing her mouth.

She fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, not giving a damn if the things broke at this point, and sighed when he grabbed a hand full of her breasts. His tail had removed her soaking wet panties, completely tossing them to the side as the tip of the fur tickled her blue patch of hair. She broke apart their kiss, long enough to gasp sharply, as he slid past her lips and brushed lightly against her nub. He chuckled.

“I’m sure you’ve never experienced this before, ” he said, his lips barely grazing against her porcelain neck, “but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” 

Her knees buckled as he added more pressure, and she interrogated herself in her mind. Who was she and where did she come from? What kind of woman was she to be getting down and dirty in the lab with someone who was obviously her enemy? 

His tail moved relentlessly between her legs and she decided that she no longer cared. 

She needed something to hold onto at the building pleasure, and she grabbed his backside, right at the base of his tail. She stroked it, causing him to groan animalistically, and she smiled to herself that she had done that to him. She applied more pressure at the skin causing him to flicker his tail with more fever. She threw her head back, her neck elongated in submission, and he ran his tongue down her skin, completely entranced in the scientist beauty. 

Bulma reached around to his front and grabbed his member, stroking it against the fabric of his pants. Impatiently, he removed the spandex, and she hungrily grabbed it. He raised an eyebrow and brought his head up to her eyes.

“Oh? ” he teased, “ready for the entre already? That would kill the hour.”

She shook her head, lost in a pleasurable haze. “I don’t care.”

“Such a vulgar woman.”

“Youre one to talk.”

He chuckled low under his breath and grabbed his cock from her hands, his tail knocking everything from the work bench. He carefully set her body on the bench, removing her skirt and panties with one swipe. He looked down at her, at her lidded eyes and her lips slightly parted,feeling his ego manifest. 

“You look like you need a good fuck, ” he chuckled, moving closer to her, “can I be of assistance?” 

“Oh shut the hell up, ” she grabbed his arm, “and just get on with it already.”

He complied, entering her swiftly, both of them catching their breath at the perfect fit. Bulma mentally thanked herself for keeping that stupid elixir in the cabinet. She was having, from what she could already tell, the best sex of her life.

Vegeta was a lot more gentle than she would have given him credit for as he moved inside of her, allowing her to get adjusted to him. He fit inside of her snugly, and every stroke set her alive with fire. His tail moved erratically behind him, and as the stroking and pressure intensified, she found herself begging :

“Can you rub me with your tail? ”

He laughed, his face turning into someone that she could see herself actually liking, and he wrapped his tail around, rubbing her swollen clitoris with a complying gusto. She let out an intense moan, feeling herself slipping over the edge.

Vegeta rested his body weight on his arm as he leaned down against the table, panting as he dug deeper inside of her. She wrapped an arm around his thick neck, bringing his head closer to hers. They would cum together, she could feel it, and she braced herself for the explosion. 

“Vegeta… ” she gasped, feeling the strings breaking as her orgasm swallowed her in its greedy mouth. 

Vegeta took her lips in his again, breathing heavily as he came. Bulma let out a high pitched wail and shuddered, relishing in the peak of her pleasure. Vegeta shook once, removing himself before he came inside of her, opting to spill himself into her blouse. 

“Hey! ” she yelled, “that’s my shirt!” 

“Would you rather get pregnant? ” he said after he was finished, sweat racing down his chest, “the dammed thing is torn anyways!” 

She looked down and saw that he was right, remembering how impatient she was to get it off of her. She leaned back against the table and sighed, running her hands over her smooth stomach. 

“Well that was….quite a ride. ”

“Hmph,” he said, grabbing his clothes, “well you just had the luxury of bedding a Saiyan Prince, so what else would you expect?”

“You’re such a prick!” 

“You weren’t complaining a few moments ago.” He looked around the lab, trying to find something to cover himself with. “I’m going to have a shower while I have the energy, before I’m back at square one, as you so eloquently put it.” He turned to her, smirking. “Care to join me? We still have thirty minutes.”

Bulma weighed her options. She had already shredded her morality by sleeping with him, and even though Yamcha was dead and they weren’t together, a small part of her felt slightly guilty. 

But perhaps…

She jumped down off of the table, grabbing a labcoat to throw around her body. “Alright, buddy, but you better enjoy this, because this is the last time this is happening for either of us.” 

He reached out and grabbed her by the elbow, making her follow him. “We’ll see.” 

OooOooo 

I am a sinner. Please forgive me. 


	12. Chapter 12

p>OooOooo

Bulma juggled a bowl of popcorn and drinks into the living room, carefully setting them on the table. “Trunks!” she called up the stairs, wiping her brow, “come on and let’s start the movie!” 

“Coming, Mom! ” Trunks levitated down the stairs quickly, blowing past his mother. He plopped down on the sofa and grabbed a handful of popcorn, delighting in the buttery salty goodness. Finally he got a good look at Bulma and raised an eyebrow. “Why are you so dressed up to watch a movie, Mom?” 

Bulma looked down at her black turtle neck dress that hugged her curves tightly. She smiled, moving a piece of her bangs out of her eyes. “Well son, your father is coming back from training with Goku today, and I wanted to look nice for him. Do you notice your mother’s new hair cut?” 

Trunks nodded, stuffing the last kernels in his mouth before reaching for more. “You like nice, Mom, but why are you doing this all for Papa? You know he doesn’t care about things like that.” 

Bulma frowned and placed her hands on her hips, standing right in front of her young son. “Trunks Briefs, you take that back! I’ll have you know that your father loves when I look beautiful.” She placed a hand to her chin, a conceited expression stealing her face. “He only wants the best as a Prince, you know.”

“Whatever you say, Mom,” Trunks scratched his head, commenting mentally on how strange he thought adults were. 

“You’ll understand someday, son, ” she replied before the sound of the back door interrupted her. Perking up, she smoothed out the front of her dress and straightened her hair. “Speaking of the devil…” 

Vegeta strolled in through the living room, stopping at the sight of his wife and son. He bounced his gaze around to both of them, a question lingering in his brows. Finally he settled his glare on Trunks. “What did you do now, boy?” 

Trunks raised his hands defensively, popcorn falling to his lap. “I didn’t so anything this time, Papa, I swear!” 

Vegeta nodded, turning to Bulma. “Why do you guys look so strange?” 

“Strange?! ” she shouted, prompting Trunks to cover his ears, “is that what you say to your beautiful wife when you haven’t seen her in so long?” 

“Hmph,” Vegeta said, crossing his arms, “I see even six months doesn’t strip away your vanity.”

“You love it hun,” she walked closer to him, placing a hand to his shoulders, “so, do you notice anything different?” 

He studied her, taking in her pretty face and delicious curves. “New outfit and hair?” 

Bulma beamed, smiling snarkily at Trunks. “See? And what do you think, Vegeta?” 

Vegeta felt his forehead go damp. He hated when she made him so this. Earthlings were so peculiar in their way of giving compliments. He distinctly remembered his father giving his mother the head of someone who insulted her attire one evening, and she had practically thrown herself at him all night during dinner. Simple. Bulma required too much of his brain. 

But he knew the consequences of he didn’t comply to feeding her ego, and he would avoid that headache. 

“Your haircut doesn’t make me angry when I look at–”

“NO! “she cut him off, glaring at him. 

He took a deep breath. "That dress is impractical, and I don’t see how it can protect you, but perhaps—” 

“Absolutely not!”

Jesus, what did she want from him? “That black marker you put around your eyes is enticing–” 

“—There you go! –”

“—It looks like you were in a serious fight. ”

Trunks chuckled on the couch while Bulma growled. “I’m sorry, are you trying to flirt? Because you’re just embarrassing yourself!” 

“Papa, ” Trunks interjected, “do you remember the last movie Mom forced us to watch?” Bulma turned to glare at him and Trunks cleared his throat, correcting himself. “I mean, the last movie we all enjoyed as a loving family?” Bulma smiled, satisfied. 

“What about it? ”

“Well,” Trunks shrugged, “don’t you remember what that old dude did in the end? To make the woman love him?” 

“I thought we told you to close your eyes on that part! ” Vegeta roared. 

“ B-before that part! ” Trunks chuckled nervously, “the big speech that he gave. The one you said was silly.” 

Vegeta chewed over his lip in thought. Oh, so that was what she wanted. He cleared his throat and turned to Bulma wrapping his arms around Bulma’s waist. “Woman,” he said, his tone dropping several octaves, “you are the most ethereal creature I have ever seen. And even though you constantly change your hair like you change underwear, I love each style that you choose. I especially love that you no longer wear that atrocious birds nest like when we first met—”

“You’re pushing it, Vegeta. ”

“Let me finish!” He raked his eyes down to her frame, smirking. “And that dress is practically painted on and it’s making me want to send the boy to his room. One look at you in this and I know that we’ll need to soundproof this entire street. You’ve done well to satisfy my manly needs.” 

Bulma giggled like a school girl while Trunks groaned loudly. Leave it to his father to overdo something, considering that the man in the movie had only called the woman ethereal. 

“It’s a little far fetched but I’ll take it, ” Bulma replied, wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed his lips gently, giving him compliments about how form fitting his training suit was. 

Trunks grabbed the popcorn bowl and left the living room, disgusted. “You guys have a bedroom, you know!” 

“Shut it boy!” Vegeta called after him. 

Trunks headed to the kitchen to phone Goten, hoping Chi Chi would agree to letting him spend the night. There was no way he was staying at Capsule Corps tonight.   
OooOooo


	13. Chapter 13

OooOooo

There was a calm that washed over the remnants of the city, a quiet that had been long lost in the shattered hearts of many, and the residents took to the rare opportunity with restored joy, enjoying dinners that could stretch past the hurried rush of anxieties and safe measurements. The warm night allowed them to open their windows and embrace the night air, their sounds of guiltless laughter soaking the still night until it rained with their pleasantries. 

It was beautiful, poetic. It was what they needed, even if for just a fleeting moment. This particular evening provided a mirror of what used to be, of how they used to live before the haunting ghosts named 17 and 18 wrecked their lives with a merciless terror. 

She was happy for them, she really was, but their soft lulls of laughter and music made the ache in her heart clench until she could no longer stand it. 

She needed to get away. 

She used the luxury of time to pack a small bag of necessary foods, and then she jumped into her hover pad, the wind running its chilled fingers through her aqua tresses, and drove off, not bothering or caring to turn back. 

If everything went according to plan, by their hands, the city could enjoy more undisturbed nights like this. They had no idea of the fight that was currently taking place in another lifetime ago, by a lavender haired teenager who had left her with determination in his eye and victory in his pocket, who gave her a silent emotional goodbye as he headed to the past in the time machine she built to give a future to two eras that would never meet.

And they had no idea that her heart had gone with him, and now all that was left of Bulma Briefs was hollow shell and a flicker of hope imprinted in her flesh and on her jacket. 

She headed to the hill that Trunks loved to visit as a boy. She would take them there for a lunch or quiet dinner, pretending that they were far away from the madness of life all together, only he and her to eat pork dumplings and rice balls with enough love to sustain them. In those fleeting moments, they were a normal family, enjoying a normal meal, and she pretended that she wasn’t a mother who had brought her son into a world of impending doom. He was Trunks and she was Bulma, and everything else was white noise. 

The hill was unscathed surprisingly, as if the Androids were gifting her for her troubles, and it provided little relief to the chaos of emotions that welled inside of her. She sat down at the very top, overlooking the ominous city below that was carefully crafted with a veil of limited joy. 

The wind tickled her cheek, bringing with it the phantom sounds of his voice, the “Mom, what’s this flower called?” or “What was dad like?” and her favorite “No one has a mom as smart as you!” 

Her chest carried a heavy ache and she breathed out slowly, hoping to dissolve the weight with her exhales. She needed to be strong, after all Trunks was the one going through the intensity of it all, but the tug of motherhood was intense this evening, and she had a hard time letting go. 

Was he all right? 

Was he eating?

Was his father taking good care of him?

…Did he miss her as much as she longed for him?

A choking sound escaped her tight lips at her last question, a desperate plea begging to spoken. Her only reason for going on, when everything else had been so selfishly taken from her, was in another world entirely, and with hin, a small shred of her will to continue. 

She shook her head, scolding herself for thinking like that. The mission was too important for her to be selfish, and yet she couldn’t help the conflicting thoughts. What had she done that was so cruel that the sins of the world fell solely on her shoulders? Was this some cardinal sin for bedding the one man who was hell bent on destroying it? 

No, she instantly rectified, you can’t think like that. 

Soft giggles infiltrated her ears, causing her to look over to a side street of the city. A little boy, most likely no older than five, was tugging on his mother’s hand, his mouth open in an innocent grin, as if the entire world waited for him instead of being threatened of tearing apart. 

“Can you carry me, Mama? ” he had said, cupping his tiny fingers around his mother’s hand, “Like an airplane?” 

She watched as the woman nodded, and then bent down to scoop the boy and toss him on her shoulders, his short arms extended like they were wings, his mouth in the form of a circle as he mimicked air noises. 

It was too much. 

The dam that held her together broke, and she didn’t resolve to stop the tears that flowed down her cheeks in a river, falling to her collarbone and carrying the words that she was too afraid to say. 

Trunks. Her brave Trunks. 

He had gone to the past with no hesitation, and although she was proud, a part of her wished that he would have. He was a teenager. He should have been as she was, carefree and spoiled with a map on his back and the promises of tomorrow on his face. He shouldn’t be fighting for a world that was so foreign to even her, for a mother that was losing the grip on protecting him. 

“Oh Trunks, ” she said softly, her voice full of tears. She was on the edge of sobbing, small whimpers getting stuck in her chest and fighting to get out. She swallowed thickly, hoping it would relieve the pain, but it didn’t, instead egging her on. Her face scrunched up as a gut wrenching cry broke for him, for her, for all the could have beens and why is its.

Looking over the dimmed yellow lights, Bulma found a single truth in the pit of her stomach. She reached down with all of her strength, pushing past the tears and emotions and her own brokenness to say it: “I miss you. ”


	14. Chapter 14

p>There were not many things that could hurt Vegeta. Physically, sure, if Zamasu/ Goku Black had anything to recently say about it. But the Saiyan Prince had gone through the ringer in his tornado of a life, from the genocide of his race to having to change everything he knew and adapt to surroundings that he once condemned.

And yet, nothing had ever really hurt his feelings and made him sulk in his own insecurities.

That is, until now.

He stared in the bathroom mirror, trying to find some sort of resolution in her answer as he studied the depth of his black pools for eyes. Vegeta wasn’t stupid; he knew that Bulma had grown up with the man child she called Goku, and he knew that she and many others had viewed him as a savior. Hell, even _he_ had relied on Kakarot’s unwavering strength in the past, even declaring him number one in the heat of a vicious battle.

But as Vegeta’s fingers turned white as he gripped the edge of the sink with an angry grasp, his mind could only marinate on one thing:

What on Earth would make Bulma think he was incapable of protecting his _own son’s_ timeline, at the strength he was at now?

Soft click clacking of footsteps interrupted his thoughts, causing him to look up in the mirror to see Bulma entering the bathroom. A yawn spilled from her lips as she fixed the strap of her negligee, her eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“Vegeta?” she said rubbing her eye and walking to his side, “Why are you still up? It’s past three in the morning. ”

He grit his teeth as he swallowed a snarl. It infuriated him even more that she hadn’t even _realized_ her error, that she couldn’t even look at him and not feel guilty for what she had said to Goten and _their son_. The one person on this entire planet who thought the sun rose and fell on Vegeta’s ass, and she had all but asked that he rest his faith on someone else.

“Go back to bed, Bulma,” he growled, tearing his gaze away from her through the glass, “I need some time to myself.”

Of course that wouldn’t do much of anything, as the many years of being married to her had taught him. He wasn’t surprised to feel her warm hand on his shoulder, and he would bet that she was giving him a comforting look at his very second.

“Vegeta…” she said in a concerned tone, and he took a deep breath, “are you worried about Trunks?”

He looked at her then, his eyes narrowed. “What do you think? ”

“I know,” she sighed, removing her hand from him and folding her arms, “but everything will be alright. There hasn’t been a battle that you guys have lost, and I don’t think that will happen now.”

“Oh, you _guys_ , is it now?” He chastised himself internally for sounding like a snarky child, but the words had been said and he wasn’t going to turn back now. “Funny, I didn’t think you would even consider _me_ as a solution to _our son’s_ problem.”

Her lips parted as she tossed him a questioning look. “What are you talking about, Vegeta?”

She would. Of course she wouldn’t hold herself accountable for her words. Vegeta sighed. This is why he didn’t even want to hold the conversation in the first place. For what? So he could look like the jealous husband? The bad guy? Like the man from yesteryear who wore his pride on his sleeve and his naivety in his pocket? Absolutely not. “Nevermind. Just go back to bed.”

“Not until you tell me what’s the problem. I can tell by your tone that you’re upset with me so spit it out.” There it was. That fire in her eyes that told him she wasn’t letting up anytime soon. If he didn’t answer, she would not let up until he did. So for the sake of his own sanity and to not have sex thrown against him like some sort of punishment, Vegeta stood up straight and said simply, “I heard what you said to Trunks and Goten.”

He watched as her face mulled over his words, her eyes darting to the carpet as she tried to remember her statement. Finally, she got it, as her eyes widened and met his, a look of surprise stealing her expression. “Oh,” she breathed out, “that didn’t come out how I intended.”

“How else could it have been meant?!” He crossed his arms and looked to his feet, feeling ashamed at how desperate he was looking for her approval. “It sounds to me like you don’t think I’m needed.”

“Oh, hun,” she closed the gap between them, resting her hands on his chiseled chest and looked at him with a warmth in her smile and hypnotic eyes, “you’re _always_ needed. I wasn’t trying to discredit you, I was just trying to keep the boys from leaving. I thought that if I used Son’s name, then-”

“-then they would listen to you? And my name wouldn’t have worked? I don’t think you’re making this situation better, Bulma.”

She chewed on her bottom lip as she let the weight of his words sink in. How could she convey to him how she really felt? “I’m sorry, Vegeta,” she wrapped her arms around his waist, bringing their foreheads together, “I really didn’t mean that you _aren’t_ enough. I wasn’t thinking and I just let it slip out. Of _course_ you’re enough. I remember the fight with Buu vividly, it was _you_ who spoke to us first.”

“Hmph.”

“And all the trouble you went through to keep Beerus calm at my party, Goku didn’t do that.”

“Tch.”

“And it was you who put Frost in his place. And you had Frieza on his knees in desperation. And not to mention Cabba _adores_ you.”

“Are you just trying to butter me up?”

“I don’t know, is it working?” She let out a small laugh and threw her head back, her pearly white teeth blinding him. “But seriously, you’ve done just as much good for this world like Son has. Our butts would have been toasted plenty of times if it wasn’t for your tactical mind, sweetie.”

“Ugh,” he groaned, his stomach turning, “on second thought, you don’t need to lump me in the same category as Kakarot. It’s bile in my brain just hearing it.”

“Oh hush, ” she brought her arms up around his neck, pouting at him, “but do you forgive me? I promise I’ll even tell Trunks and Goten that they need to put their faith in _you_.”

He grunted and rolled his eyes, although his arms found solace around her waist as he pulled her in closer. She squealed as their chest mashed together, and he smirked at her. “What I want,” he said in a hushed tone, “is for you never to forget _who_ is the real Saiyan prince here. Believe in the fool all you want, but don’t denounce my authority in the process. We are finally at the same level of strength, and I will not be knocked for it.”

“Done and done,” she smiled at him and inched her face closer to his, “it won’t happen again. My precious jealous husband, so hurt over his wife’s carelessness. I never thought I’d see the day. ”

“Shut up, Bulma,” he snarled, “you just rectified a wrong. Let’s not start another blunder.”

She giggled and pressed her lips to his, sighing into his mouth. And as he kissed her back, he tasted the truth on her lips, finding his name still tattooed on her tongue, swallowing his hurt feelings along with her apology. He would make sure that she made it up to him, and he would use her lips to apologize to him in more ways than just vocally.

OooOooo

_**So I hope this sufficed. It was hard to think of a reason why Bulma said those awful words, other than she just wasn’t thinking. Let’s hope the manga handles this better guys!** _


	15. Chapter 15

p>Bra sat at the large dinner table, kicking her short legs to and fro as she dangled her tongue out of her mouth. She pressed a crayon to her chin and hummed, trying to figure out exactly what to draw.

“Mama,” she called to Bulma, who was busy seasoning meat for their dinner, “What kind of picture would Papa like for a present?” 

The older blue haired woman turned around, smoothing out her apron. “Well, sweetie, your dad isn’t exactly…. _conventional_ …” Bulma chuckled and ran her fingers under the sink water, watching the seasoned slime drip from her fingers, “So I’m sure whatever you give him will be fine.”

“Hmnnnn, you’re no help, Mama,” Bra pouted, resting her chin in her hand, “I want it to be perfect.” 

Bulma sighed and walked over to the table, dropping down to Bra’s height. She glanced at that blank paper, and then over to her upset daughter. “Why don’t you say some nice things to your Papa? Anything that comes from an honest heart can never go wrong.” 

Bra’s little face perked up as she flashed Bulma a dazzling smile, her large blue eyes swimming with glee. “Oh, wow Mama! Big brother is right! You are super smart!” Bulma chuckled as Bra grabbed the paper and slid it in front of her, gliding her red crayon across the sheet. 

  
Bulma ran her fingers through the toddler’s ponytail, trying to get a sneak peek into what she was writing. Bra glanced up at her with accusing eyes and covered the paper with her tiny arms, throwing her head on top. “No, Mama! This is for Papa’s eyes only! No peeking!” 

Bulma threw her hands up in defeat and smiled, walking back over to the stove. “Say no more kiddo! Mama won’t interfere with your sacred letter!” 

Bra glared at her until she was at a safe distance, only continuing her writing when her mother’s back was fully turned. She licked her lips and took Bulma’s advice, letting heart do the writing instead of her brain. “Dear Papa….” she whispered. 

OooOooo 

Vegeta turned off the gravity simulator and felt his muscles relax, wiping his brow. Today had been an intense training, and he had pretty much tried to make sure he stayed away all day. Bulma hadn’t come to knock, Trunks hadn’t bothered to give him some sort of present, and Bra did not crawl over him while nagging about his age. The small things in life, he had learned to be grateful for. 

Birthday. Bulma had found it strange that Saiyans did not feel the need to celebrate the annual year of their birth, and even after explaining that a Saiyans birth date was only ceremonial during certain parts of their life, she still tried to make it a big deal. “Well, Goku celebrates it!” was her excuse, but Vegeta knew it was just an excuse for the third class to have cake. Goku probably couldn’t even accurately tell anyone his age, let alone throw a party about it. And if Bulma was _anything_ like Chi Chi, then a small part of him could understand why Goku had a hard time saying no. 

But that didn’t mean his own wife wasn’t full of treachery. While he appreciated the cake, the idea of an entire day circulating around him and involving songs and questions and silly streamers was so beneath him. He had no qualms about his children celebrating—he had even persuaded Bulma to make Trunks traditional Saiyan armor in his royal birthright one year— there was no need for him to participate in his own affairs. So he appreciated this quiet day, spent best as he saw fit. After all, in typical Earthling fashion, wasn’t he allowed to do whatever he desired on a day that rose and fell on him? 

That part, he could agree with. 

He opened the door to the gravity room and was instantly met with a white envelope, riddled with stickers. He removed the paper from the top of his hair and eyed it curiously. 

“Vegeta! ” Bulma walked down the corridor, holding a cupcake in her hand. “Happy Birthday hun! So happy you finally came out of your training! And just in time for your birthday dinner!”

“Hmph,” he remarked, looking at the chocolate confection greedily, “I’m starving. And what is this?” He placed the envelope in front of her nose, grabbing the cupcake with his other hand and scarfing it down. 

“Rude! ” Bulma frowned,“But I think this comes from Bra. You know she loves to help her Papa celebrate!” She winked at him, knowing the reminder would aggravate him as much as entice him. 

“I thought I told you to tell the kids not to do anything this year! ”

“ Sure, you really expect me to tell the offspring of _Vegeta and Bulma_ that they can’t do something. Because that always works out so perfectly.” She folded her arms and pursed her lips. “So…?” 

He glanced up at her from the letter. “So what?” 

“So what does it say? I’m interested! ”

Vegeta read the front of the envelope and growled. “Have you no couth, woman!? It says for my eyes only! I will not betray her trust!” 

“Oh my Dende,” Bulma rolled her eyes, “You Saiyans are so dramatic, no matter how watered down the gene is. Well whatever, Im going to start serving plates, so you better hurry before Trunks eats your food! Teenage Saiyans are nothing to play around about.”

Vegeta snarled. “You tell that boy that if he even glances at my steak for too long, I will make him train with me everyday for a month.”

“Sure, sure,” Bulma waved him off, turning around, “I’ll see you soon, your highness.” 

Vegeta waited until she was no longer in his presence before opening the letter, being careful not to rip it. He was proud to see she had been practicing her letters, even if a few words were misspelled. He began to read:

“Dear Papa, 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 

You’re a whole ‘nother year older huh? What are you, like a bajillion years old? I’m surprised you’re still so strong! 

Papa, every other kid in Bra’s class has dads that give them ice cream, or take them to the store, or make them lunches with cute notes. But none of them have Papa’s that will beat up cars for them when they get too close! Or yell at other people when they make Bra cry, and make them cry instead! When I told the kids that, they said they wish they had a Papa like you too! But you only belong to Bra! 

Trunks doesn’t count because he’s a cunt. (I heard Goten say that the other day, and that means he’s bad right?) 

Mama told me to be honest, so I’ll tell you why I like you so much Papa. You’re really strong, like REALLY strong. You sit with me when I’m scared at night, (which isn’t a lot because Saiyan Princesses aren’t scared of anything, right Papa?) and you make Bra laugh when you get really mad. 'Member when you blew up that bench at the park because that big kid said Trunks had stupid hair? I laughed so hard I peed, Papa (don’t tell Mama please. I cleaned up I promise!) 

Pam always says that HER Papa is best because he’s really smart, but I told her that my Papa used to beat up her Papa (Trunks told me! He told me not to tell… Oops… Well you won’t tell, will you?) maybe you should talk with Pan and uncle Gohan and set them straight like Mama has to do with you. It always works, that’s what she says anyways. 

Thank you for being the best daddy ever. One day I will be a super Saiyan just like you so I can make the dark not so scary when you get scared. 

Bra loves you very much Papa! 

P.s. I’m sorry again for getting you gummy worms last year. I didn’t mean to make you cry. This time I got you gummy bears. They’re just as yummy! ”

The bottom of the paper was scribbled with a black and blue outline of them punching stick figures, and Vegeta felt his pride swell up. 

  
There was no way he was getting emotional over a four year old’s letter. Absolutely no way. He was just…. 

… Oh fuck it. He loved this little letter, and as he stuck it back in the envelope, he knew he would keep it in a safe spot where his nose wife and troublesome son would never find it. 

Pride used to be a detrimental flaw in Vegeta’s life, but these days it took on a new connotation. His daughter was the third most fulfilling result of his life on Earth, and for her, and ONLY her, he would enjoy the rest of this day in some sort of traditional celebration. 

But first he would have a little talk with his son and Goten for even daring to taint his precious princess with obscene words.


	16. Chapter 16

p>“VEGETA!!”

  
Vegeta rose instantly to his feet, quickly abandoning his deep slumber. His sheets fell around his feet in a jumbled puddle, and he cursed loudly as he rubbed his red rimmed eyes. 

  
“VEGETA! COME QUICKLY!!”

He marched out of his bedroom, forgetting to throw on a shirt to cover his naked chest, and strode down the hallway to the screaming woman’s bedroom, stomping madly along the way. She was the target of several explicitives with his quick journey, and he would let her know it. 

She was standing just outside of her bedroom in nothing but a royal plush robe, her shaking hands holding the garments together tightly. Her tousled hair was just as frantic as her wild blue eyes, and he could tell they were trying to find comfort in his presence. 

“Bulma,” he snarled through gritted teeth, “you had better be damned glad that you help me with my ascension, or I would rip your tongue straight from your mouth.” 

Her teeth chattered, and he was slightly disappointed as he realized that it was not due to his intimidation. A quivering finger pointed in the black shadow of her room, her eyes never leaving his. 

“I need your help, Vegeta,” she said in a small voice, “t-there’s something wrong i-in there.”

He ran a hand down his face in annoyance, trying to catch a stable breath. “And what makes you think _I_ will help _you_?” 

“Because,” she swallowed, “you wouldn’t want anything to happen to me, would you? Then who would fix the simulator?” 

He crossed his eyes and smirked, calling her bluff. “Hmph. Your father would suffice.” 

“But he doesn’t know the latest update! Only I had a hand in that! ”

“He’s a smart man, I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”

A flash of irritation swam across her face, but she quickly regained her original disposition. “Please Vegeta,” she whispered, “I heard a noise.” 

“So? ”

“SO!?” She cleared her throat when she realized her emotions had stolen her whisper, and she looked to the ceiling before bringing her attention back to him. “So… I would like you to check. _Please_.” 

  
Vegeta laughed at her mockingly, his pearlescent canines glowing in the milky dark. “Unbelievable. I’m dealing with a child. You’re housing a criminal under your very roof, and you’re worried about the things that go bump in the night? Tell me,” he took a few steps closer to her, “My senses are keen, far superior than anyone’s in this house. How come _I_ didn’t hear any strange noises?” 

“I don’t know!” She moved her hands wildly over her head, her shoulder length hair bouncing with them, “I don’t know how you Saiyans work! Alls I know is that I’m a gorgeous woman, and rich and well known and envied, and anyone could be trying to hurt me!” 

“I’m sorry, the only one of those I can actually agree with is rich. And any idiot would go to the safe before they bothered someone as annoying as you.”

“EXCUSE ME!?”

Vegeta yawned, turning away from her entirely. “I have more important things to worry about. Like sleeping. Get a guard dog if you want to be a wild banshee. There’s no need to disturb the wicked.”

“Vegeta wait your ass up!” He felt her heavy footsteps quicken behind him, and out of curiosity he stopped, his back still turned. She circled him so that they were face to face, and he pretended not to notice that her robe dipped low in the front, showing the outline of her ample breasts. “Look,” she bit out with a sigh, “Can you _please_ just go in and check? For me?” 

“That won’t help your cause woman. Now move out of my way. ”

“Geeze!” She slapped her thigh, “Why are you being so difficult?” 

“Why are you being so irritating? ”

“Because you won’t take a hint!” 

His eyebrow rose and he unfolded his arms. Vegeta did not like being tricked, and he felt his defenses rise rapidly. “What the hell are you on about, woman? Who’s in there? Is it Kakarot?” 

“No!”

“Is it that annoying ex boyfriend of yours?”

“GOD NO! ”

“Don’t tell me it’s the bald one, and I know Piccolo is too smart than to fall in your treachery, so which one I going to be killing? Because I—” 

“LOOK! NO ONE IS KILLING NO ONE AND THERE’S NO ONE IN THE FUCKING ROOM!” 

“Oh?” Vegeta smirked. “So you’re saying it was a lie, then? Or are you just trying to prevent a murder?” 

Bulma folded her arms with a heavy breath and glared to the wall. “There was only _one_ thing I was trying to get you to murder but you’re too fucking stupid to get it,” she mumbled under her breath, but she clearly forgot the whole ‘keen senses’ lesson, because he heard her clearly. 

“What the hell are you on about woman!? ” He raked his fingers against his scalp aggressively, “It’s far too late to be playing your insane, female mind games!” 

“Kami Bless him, ” she sighed and turned her stare to him. “What the hell did you do all those years in space? Play drain the snake with those two lugheads?” 

“Don’t you dare say such a thing like that! ” Vegeta howled, “I would _never_ touch a snake or his brethren!” 

“What!? No! It’s a play on words Vegeta, ohmygosh, ” Bulma drummed her fingers against her forehead. “Vegeta. It’s 3 am. A beautiful woman is acting afraid and begging you to go to her bedroom. What the hell are you supposed to do?”

“Tch,” he crossed his arms again, “Blast her head off for waking me out of my sleep. Care to be an example?” 

“DO I HAVE TO SPELL THIS OUT FOR YOU!? ”

“PERHAPS YOU SHOULD!” He yelled back, growing irritatingly tired of her screaming at him. 

  
“I’M JUST TRYING TO FUCK YOU! ”

  
The air stilled between them at her admission, the duos eyes staring at each other widely. Somewhere in the house, Scratch hissed loudly. An engine roared to life possibly down the street. 

But nothing was louder than Vegeta’s thumping heart at her vulgarity. 

“What…” he managed to spit out finally, “what did you just say to me?” 

  
“Vegeta, you’re an adult, I’m an adult. You’re sexy as hell, and don’t even act like you don’t fantasize about me.” A blush that crawled to his cheeks answered her and she smiled confidently, resting her hands against her hips. “I’m single, you’re single. You’re alone, and I haven’t been touched in forever. So what’s the problem? Why continue to buy tickets for the train, if we never even ride it?” 

“What train?” He asked, still embarrassed at her colorful choice of words and accusations. “I don’t recall buying any tickets to anything.”

“Oh…my….god….,” she drawled, stepping forward and grabbing his hand forcefully, “I suppose if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. Let’s go, cowboy.” 

  
“I’m not a _boy_ , ” he spat, although he made no qualms about his hand or being led forward. 

She turned around and smiled coyly at him, stopping in her tracks. “You won’t be after tonight, that’s for sure.”

Vegeta gulped. Something in the tone of her voice had him… worried? And also… interested? 

Something in their dynamic had changed since he originally came to her “rescue”. And although he would normally be in an intense rage at the actions, his curiousity got the best of his as her small fingers wrapped in his and led him into the midnight of her bedroom. 

For tonight, and possibly only for tonight, he would let her show him the truth of her words.   
OooOooo 

  
Pssssh, only tonight my ass. We know how you get down, Veggie-Chan


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: So I’m pretty much thinking that maybe there was a time when Raditz wanted to give up and only saw one way out…   
OooOooo 

Raditz stared at the enlarged skin that swallowed his knuckles, taking note of the colorful dance of blues and purples that were beginning to form. He spat a curse word under the currents of his tongue, squeezing the side of infirmary bed tighter. 

Nappa sat across from him, the features of his face painted in shadow, his arms folded across his broad chest. His lips pressed together into a tight line, his eyes dark and full of torment. Raditz could see his disposition clearly, even though only a sliver of light washed over the room by way of a creaky lamp above. 

He signed, clenching his jaw and finally letting his eyes wander down to the cause of their confliction. It hurt his stomach to look, but he would prove to himself and to anyone listening that he was no coward. 

  
A swollen face greeted him, eyes shut forceably, the body unmoving. The skin resembled that of a child’s hurried scribble, and Raditz wished he could remove the bruises with a washcloth and some warm water.

“Raditz,” Nappa’s gruff voice spoke, interrupting his thoughts, “Stop looking at him like that.”

Raditz tore his eyes away from the table bed, burning straight into Nappa. He swallowed hard, trying to dissipate the anger that swarmed his chest like a thousand bees. “Stare at him like _what_?” 

Nappa unfolded his arms and rested his elbows on his knees, the light illuminating the dark edge that loitered his irises. “Like you pity him. He would beat you bloody and raw if he saw you staring at him like that.”

“Tch,” Raditz looked down to his boot, the tip stained with dried blood, and squeezed his eyes shut, “This is bullshit and you know it, Nappa.”

“Never said that it wasn’t,” Nappa sighed, “But dignify yourself with some honor. We don’t look down at our Prince like he’s some whore who’s been beaten in an alleyway. Keep your head about you.” 

  
“You’re really pissing me off, ” Raditz bit, saliva beginning to pool in the corners of his mouth, “Talking to me about honor. Where the hell was _your_ honor when Zarbon was beating him down? I didn’t see you jumping in!” 

The image of Raditz screaming in fury and attacking Zarbon head on infiltrated Nappa’s mind, and he shook his head as he recalled having to hold the brute back. Raditz had managed to land a hit in the center of Zarbon’s iron chest, resulting in his swollen hand. Vegeta had taken the rest of the beatings, declaring Raditz to be a fool for _daring_ to help out an elite. “The more you talk, the more I realize that you are definitely a third class. You think out of the pit of your ass instead of that small brain Bardock passed to you.” He pressed a finger to the side of his temple and narrowed his eyes. “Think boy. Would it do you any good to have saved him? Your entire power level is the size of Vegeta’s pinky, and he has no chance against Zarbon. What would you have done differently? Except to piss us all off?” 

“Who will protect him if we don’t, Nappa!?” Raditz growled, pointing an accusatory finger at the unconscious boy on the table, “You were personally assigned to see to his aid, and I was a forgotten peon on some mud ball planet! Vegeta could have gotten us killed when Frieza asked him. But he chose to keep us around!”

“For the sake of our legacy, Raditz!!” 

“And where in our legacy does it say we wallow in the terror of another!? Where in our legacy does it say we allow our prince to be beaten to a pulp?! He’s just a boy!”

“Why are you so passionate about this, damnit!? ” Nappa stood, his voice rising as the chair squealed at his departure, his eyes alive with hell fire. “You’re not sounding like a Saiyan!” 

“Fuck you! I sound like more of a Saiyan than you! At least I’m trying to keep him alive! ”

“And you think I’m not?! The boy is our only hope, Raditz. If he can’t live through this, than what is the point of us being warriors? Isn’t a warrior one who triumphs through anything?” 

“What does that matter if he’s dead! Look at him, Nappa! ” Raditz stared down at Vegeta’s broken body with a new sense of purpose, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “This is the worst I’ve seen him. And you know just as I do that this is minor! What happens when Zarbon doesn’t hold back? What happens when Frieza stops intervening? That weight falls on our shoulders! It becomes our burden to bear right before we follow him into an unmerciful death! ”

“So then what do you suggest, Raditz,” Nappa lowered his tone, feeling a headache approaching, “You have all of these problems, but haven’t offered a solution.”

Raditz took a deep breath and held it, feeling his answer burning on his tongue. He scraped his teeth over it, hoping it would ease the burden of the role he was giving himself. It didn’t. “We’re going to die,” he said finally, his tone dripping with pain, “Maybe not today, maybe not in a moon cycle, but we’re all going to die.” He ran his eyes back up to Nappa, feeling his face turn cold as stone. “Frieza is going to have his way with us and when he’s done, he’s going to toss us to rot in the fucking galaxy. What a way to go huh? So much honor in that,” he rolled his eyes. 

“What are you saying? ” Nappa inquired. 

“I’m saying, if he’s going to go, shouldn’t it be at the hands of a Saiyan? And not as a servant, pulling at the strings of his leach while he’s paraded around like a… Like a..” he squeezed his eyes and forced the slur out, “… Like a monkey?” 

“Coward, ” Nappa whispered, feeling rage pool around in his belly and bubble over into his bloodstream, rushing to his head relentlessly, “Are you imposing that we strike him down? While he’s sleeping?” 

“Is there no other way? ” Raditz mind was clouded and nothing could relieve him of his anxieties. This was the only way, he decided, that he could save his soul from having to face his Saiyan elders in the afterlife, asking why he didn’t do anything further. He raised his hand and a soft yellow light began to develop in his palm, threatening and soothing, and he hovered it right over Vegeta’s head. “I’m doing him a favor.” 

“I will blow your head from your shoulders before you get the chance, Raditz, ” Nappa threatened, raising his own ki soaked hand,“ Gather what little shred of dignity you have left and disarm yourself. You accuse me of not protecting him? Well I will do so now, even if it costs you your own life. ”

Raditz glared at Nappa, the ki in his palm building. Sweat began to pile around his forhead, but he made no moves to wipe it. Nappa stared back intensely, ready to fire. They were the only three of their race left, and he wanted to make sure that they at least survived, but Raditz was a fool if he thought Nappa wouldn’t kill him to protect the bigger picture. If anyone would prevail, it would be Vegeta. 

“Nappa, ” Raditz whispered, “Don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment.” 

“Speak for yourself, bastard, ” he spat, “you’re the one taking the pussy way out.”

Raditz closed his eyes and smirked. Pussy way out, huh? That’s what Nappa said about Bardock. He and Vegeta snickered over the tale of Bardock’s crazed demeanor being broadcast over the scouter, but Raditz thought differently. As he heard the transmission about his father’s last moments in his life, he wondered how true his father’s words were. Frieza certainly looked deceptive, and Bardock had never really made qualms in the past, so what had changed now? 

He hoped to answer him as soon as he made it to the afterlife. 

He let the rest of his ki fall to his fingers, and then he fired. 

  
The lamp above Vegeta’s head rattled as the ki blast scorched it, sending into metal embers that rained down over the trio in an orange dance. Raditz eyes widened as the grip around his hand tightened, and Vegeta slowly sat up, his eyes dark and menacing. 

“What the hell are you doing? ” His voice was hoarse as if it had been overworked, and Raditz felt his tongue swell up in words that he couldn’t reply with. 

“Vegeta,” Nappa replied matter of factly, “Good to see you’re awake.” 

“As if I could be defeated by that lizard, ” His voice darkened, the hair over his forehead invading his eyes, “Now answer me, trash. What the hell do you think you were doing?” 

Raditz swallowed, the vein in his neck throbbed, and he closed his eyes. “Vegeta, I–” 

The cold of the wall rushed to greet him as Vegeta punched him in the jaw. Raditz groaned, although a piece of him was in awe at his strength even while on the brink of death. 

“If you ever, ” Vegeta seethed, “Raise a hand like that to me again, I will pull your intestines from your belly. And you will address me as Prince Vegeta.”

Nappa chuckled mockingly behind the boy, and Raditz could do nothing but nod once. He could feel that Vegeta had possible knocked a tooth loose, and he tried to wiggle it back into its space . 

  
“Good, ” Vegeta began to slur on his words, his head wobbling, “Pathetic… Third…class…” the table bed groaned as his body fell against the metal, and he slipped into the darkness of his unconscious again. 

Nappa shook his head and glared at the Saiyan teen on the floor. He was more like Bardock than he would’ve thought, and that fact made Nappa sick to his stomach. Raditz would eventually learn like his old man, and Nappa was growing not to care. 

“I hope you learned your fucking lesson boy, ” Nappa chided, “And grow a Saiyan pair of balls. Next time, I won’t hold you back as Zarbon rips his hand through your abdomen. In fact, pull a stunt like that again and I’ll encourage it.” 

Raditz groaned and hung his head, refusing to let himself drown under the weight of Nappa’s words. He rested his hands on his stomach and let the world fade around him, only his self torment and the sting of Vegeta’s punch keeping him afloat. 

OooOooo 

Sooo not Canon I know, lol but Yknow…


	18. Chapter 18

p>

  


“You haven’t been over in a long time, Piccolo,” Gohan’s face is a kaleidoscope of confusion, worry and interest, “Why is that?”

  


Piccolo turns his stare away politely, hoping that the red of his cheeks doesn’t overpower the green. He grunts down what he wants to say, his lightning fast brain coming up with some sort of reply. “I told you I would remain at the Lookout after the battle with Cell,” he says finally, “So that is why.”

  


He can tell by Gohan’s immediate reaction that he doesn’t fully understand it, but Gohan also knows that Piccolo’s words are finalized in cement. “Well, maybe you can come by this week if you have the time. Goten’s been asking about you, Mom too.”

  


This makes Piccolo feel completely flustered, as if the air in his chest has been replaced with sand. How does he tell Gohan that he doesn’t want to come over? That he’s successfully distanced himself for everyone’s sake? That he leans on the knowledge that Gohan can visit him at the Lookout if need be? He tries to control his neutral expression, internally calling his stoicism forward until he feels it wash over him with familiarity. He’s always prided himself on breathing truth into his words, even if the situation would not benefit from it. He sees no reason in falsified statements— unless it’s at the cost of saving a life. But in this instance, there is no soul to save, no misfortune to prevent. The only burn that Piccolo wants to soothe is his own worries. 

  


But when he looks to Gohan’s face, none of that matters. Those same eyes that stare back at him are ones that have seen too many blemishes of this world, the same ones that have cried over the loss of his father, over the loss of _him,_ and he doesn’t want to personally be responsible for the disappointment that he knows the teen will show if he refuses. So he takes a deep breath and unfolds his arms, looking at Gohan with a serious expression. “Okay,” he finally replies, “I will try to visit this week.”

  


oooOOOooo

It happens sooner than Piccolo thinks, in a ‘let’s get this out of the way’ sort of thing. 

  


The next day he finds himself cutting through clouds, flying lazily towards the quaint home at Mount Paozu. His stomach clenches as the scenery changes from yellow winding roads to luscious green trees. The house isn’t too much further, he tells himself, but at least he’s played it smart. Gohan should have gotten out of school an hour ago, which means they will probably arrive around the same time. This makes Piccolo’s head defrost, and makes the tiny jitters that surge through his body evaporate through his fingers. At least if Gohan is there, he won’t have to deal with his anxieties face to face. 

  


But when Chi Chi opens the door, her face full of surprise and excitement, Piccolo is quickly disappointed.

  


“He’s not here! Gohan’s been trainin’ the daughter of Mr. Satan and takin’ Goten with them. I don’t suspect they’ll be back until dusk.”

  


Piccolo swallows a snarl as he tosses his head back in the sky. The sun is still sitting high, beaming down on him with judgmental interrogation. His lips fold into a tight line, and he nods at Chi Chi, barely meeting her in the eyes. He turns to go, but her voice is desperate as she stops him.

  


“You don’t have to leave, Piccolo!” The words stop him in his tracks, although his feet are demanding that move, _begging_ it even. “The thing is, I’ve just made this really big dinner, bigger than two boys with Saiyan appetites! And it’s been awhile since I’ve had adult company, won’t you at least stay to eat?”

  


Piccolo _doesn’t_ eat; she knows that. Or maybe she’s completely forgotten, not that it’s her fault. At first he would only nibble in courtesies, and that was more for Gohan’s sake. He didn’t want to flat out be rude to his mother. But then Piccolo realized he looked _forward_ to her delicious meals, and had even began to enjoy the variety of seasonings that she would experiment with. It makes him understand why a then four year old Gohan cried for his mother’s curry when he was alone in the wilderness all those years ago. Now it’s the only food that he will consume, even if he has a secret reason for doing it. 

  


Because although Chi Chi is a wizard in the kitchen, it’s her smile that comes from her watching the food being enjoyed that he most looks forward to.

  


And with that, he turns back and enters the house, pretending not to notice her pleased grin.

  


She hasn’t lied, there’s a _ton_ of food laid out and several more pots and pans over the fire. “What’s the occasion?” He asks without realizing he’s not _supposed_ to be speaking to her. Not when it’s just the two of them. _Dinner and done, Piccolo! Dinner and done!_

  


She laughs cleverly, as if she has secrets sleeping on her tongue and sits down at the table to cut up some vegetables. “Mr. Satan’s daughter is the perfect wife for Gohan,” she looks to ceiling dreamily, as if she’s imagining their wedding already, “And I want her to feel comfortable in this family. At first I didn’t think so, but she’s grown on me. And she’s _rich_ too! My son Gohan, the scholar with the beautiful wife and even more beautiful home. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for him.”

  


Piccolo grimaces as she says this. He counts how many times Chi Chi’s fussiness over Gohan’s studies have gotten in the way of his training, especially in the more recent years. But now he understands _why_ Chi Chi has fought so hard for books and tests and quizzes. The teen has done well, Piccolo admits, and has more than deserved his time to step away from the battlefield and live a normal life. And Chi Chi, with all that she’s suffered, has deserved to see him do so. 

  


“Does Gohan want to get married?”

  


“Not yet,” she sings, placing he vegetables in a bowl of water, “But that’s because he’s not used to girls. And without his dad around, he doesn’t really have an example of what to do, not that I’m sure him being here would make a difference.”

  


This makes Piccolo laugh because _no it wouldn’t have._

  


“It’s a shame you spend so much time up at Kami’s; _you_ don’t have much experience with girls either. If you did, I’d ask you to help him understand some things a mother can’t explain.” Her eyes cut to him, a question creeping on her face. “Just how much experience _have_ you had with girls, Piccolo?”

  


Piccolo is flustered. He’s sure that if he was drinking some water, it would spray out in a mess on the kitchen table. Chi Chi breaks out in a hearty laugh, clutching the bowl of watered vegetables closely to her stomach. He instead looks to the table, embarrassment rolling over his body in waves.

  


“I’m just kiddin’, Goku told me a long time ago that Namekians don’t love like we do.”

  


Piccolo should feel relief, but instead something else burns in the pit of his stomach. She _is_ right; as a Namekian, he does not feel attraction the same way others do. He does not understand lust, or desire, but Piccolo does understand love and beauty.

  


And Piccolo certainly understands that Chi Chi is beautiful.

  


Not in the typical way; not in the way that perhaps Gohan feels about Mr. Satan’s daughter. Not in the way he catches Vegeta staring at Bulma, or Krillin at 18. No, Chi Chi (although he can admit that by Earthling’s standards she _is_ very pretty) is beautiful in more ways than that. If he thinks about the parts that make up the best qualities of Gohan, he is sure to find her there. Gohan’s strength, kindness and ability to access a situation are all from his father, traits that Piccolo has always admired. But his laugh, the way he think of others, the responsibility and perseverance he carries, those are all Chi Chi. And the more time Piccolo spends around the woman, the more he suffocates in the realization until all he breathes are memories of her.

  


And he hates the guilt that associates with it. 

  


He remembers the first time he saw her way back when at the Tenkaichi Budokai. She was elated about being Goku’s bride, not that he cared. All he wanted was to stain Goku’s shirt with the man’s blood, and shouting women would not distract him from that. And he never paid much attention to her afterwards, especially not between dying and surviving Dr. Gero’s monster. But since Goku died for good this time, and the obligation he felt in having a hand with the upbringing of Gohan (and sometimes Goten), he finds himself around her more. Soon he picks up things that make her laugh, or how not having dinner with her sons makes her extremely agitated, or how sometimes she stares out of the window at night, sighing to herself and most likely missing Goku. The second time he catches her doing this makes Piccolo realize with a heavy weight that there is a problem. He remembers feeling jealous that she doesn’t stare after _him_ like that, and he also is pissed that Goku could leave something so precious behind.

  


“But I know you love Gohan,” she continues and breaks his thoughts, and he hopes she hasn’t taken his silence with a slight, “And I can’t thank you enough for that. At first I was worried, seein’ as you’re the Daimao and everything. But you’re nothin’ like that guy at all, and Gohan’s really lucky to have you.” She does something then that catches him by surprise. Her small hand makes its way across the table and finds his, her fingers closing around his palm tightly. Piccolo can’t help but stare at their meeting of flesh, her dainty cream skin against his grass toned hand, and wonders briefly if it’s so wrong to feel this way. He’s burning up, but the coolness of her hand keeps him regulated. “It’s been really hard without Goku around,” her voice is small and her eyes are sad, but she masks them with a radiant smile, “But havin’ you here helps. I’ve missed you comin’ by more and I know that Gohan does too. It’s really great to see you, Piccolo.”

  


Piccolo stares at her incredulously, feeling the same guilt that Gohan gave him only the day prior. She means it, he can tell by the glistening whites of her teeth, that she _does_ want him around. Piccolo thinks that if he were still beating to the drums of his Daimao heart, her smile would have freed him. His face heats up and she asks him if he’s all right, but he nods her off and tries to center himself again. He’ll never admit that a portion of his meditation is to calm himself around her, but it seems to be working. She lets his hand go, something he regrets, and offers him a knife and bowl of potatoes. “Do you mind helpin’?” 

  


Piccolo accepts it from her and smiles a little himself, barely showing his fangs. “It’s good to be around too, Chi Chi.”

oooOOOooo

  


Gohan is flying to the Lookout with such excitement that Dende and Mr. Popo are worried, and Piccolo has to admit that he’s waiting for bad news. That is, until Gohan’s face lights up with the brilliance of Namekian suns.

  


“Piccolo!” He races forward, and Piccolo notices for the first time that he’s wearing some gaudy costume. “I have the _best_ news! I just talked with Dad, and he’s coming back for one day so he can fight in the Tenkaichi Tournament!”

  


This is good news, Piccolo agrees. His lips have transformed to a smile. How long has it been, seven years now? It’s funny, he thinks, that he’s actually looking forward to Goku coming back, and not just so he can kill him again. He can openly admit that Son is a friend and an ally, and he’s looking forward to hearing of the adventures he’s had in Other World. 

  


But there’s one thing that’s bothering him, and he needs to ask Gohan now.

  


“Are you really wearing _that_ to the Tournament?” He judgmentally looks over Gohan’s ridiculous get up. He looks like some sort of homeless superhero, completed with glasses so darkly tinted that Piccolo can see his reflection.

  


“Aww not you _too,_ Piccolo,” the teen sulks, grabbing his green shirt, “I think I look cool.”

  


“Well,” Piccolo says with a laugh, “It’s a good thing your intelligence doesn’t intermingle with your fashion choices.”

  


Gohan rubs the back of his head and smiles awkwardly, explaining about this Great Saiyaman thing he’s doing and about Videl, this future bride of his that Gohan is oblivious to. Half of Piccolo’s brain is consumed with the conversation, even replying on key, but the other half is absorbed in more whirlwind thoughts. He’s thinking of Chi Chi, how happy she’ll be to have Goku back, how she must be over the moon with glee that Goten can meet his father. He blushes a bit, wondering if they’ll show how much they’ve missed the other in _every_ way. But most importantly, he’s wondering if Chi Chi will realize how much she doesn’t need him anymore, now that her husband is home for a bit, leaving Piccolo on the Lookout where he belongs.

  


He lets Gohan finish the conversation before he says he has to go, and Piccolo watches as he makes to the edge before he can no longer contain his curiosity. “Gohan,” he says reluctantly, feeling incredibly nervous, “Have you told your mother already?”

  


The teen turns and his face is beaming. He nods, and Piccolo feels his heart begin to shatter. “I did! She cried and fussed over looking old. I think she’s most excited of us all!” Gohan stares off into the distance, seeing a memory that Piccolo cannot. “It’ll do Mom some good to be happy. After all, she’s raised us without Dad, and I know she gets really lonely. I can’t wait to see them together again.”

  


Piccolo takes a deep breath, knowing how right Gohan is. No matter how he feels —these foreign feelings that he’s still working through— Chi Chi’s happiness means the most to him. And he knows he can’t compete with a relationship that’s survived so much, even so that she’s waiting for him despite his death. And it pains Piccolo to accept it, but he does, thinking of how he can’t wait to see her that happy again either, even if it’s just for one day.

  


“Good, Gohan. Your mother definitely deserves it.”

oooOOOooo

  


_I hope you like it! I thought long and hard on how to do this, and I think this was the best way for me to execute it. What is the ship for Piccolo x Chi Chi? Is it Chiccolo, or Picchi? Either way, I’m tagging them both XD._

  


  



	19. Chapter 19

This one shot was written for [@glitzthings](https://tmblr.co/m6Fudl6UoImMkwnBn6muJqQ) by request (Sorry it’s late my friend!). I hope this is okay, I’ve been having the worst case of writer’s block lately.

oooOOOooo

Vegeta folds his arms tighter around his chest, sinking further down into his seat. An impatient groan escapes his lips, as soft as a sleeping breath, but still earns him a scowl from his wife. Her sapphire eyes burn the color of gasoline fire and say all of the words hidden behind the confines of her lips, making him turn his head away. He gets it; she doesn’t need to look at him like that anymore. He clicks his teeth loud enough to tell her so, but he can still feel her heated stare  shredding the skin on his neck.  He ignores her, and instead decides to make a mental list of the worst moments in his life.

1) Frieza. Enough said.  
2) Kakarot. A tolerable ending, but their beginnings will always stain his tongue with acid.  
3) Any combination of 1 and 2.  
4) What he’s doing at this exact moment.

He feels a palm on his thigh and he whips his head back to his left, expecting to meet the cooling eyes of his hot tempered spouse. She’s gotten bored of his tantrum apparently as her eyes are glued to the stage, smiling widely with excitement. Instead, he catches the stare of his son, who’s sporting the same goofy grin as his mother, his  lavender hair hanging loosely in his eyes.

“Papa,” he tries to whisper, his voice cracking with manhood, “She’s coming on now!”

Vegeta nods, thankful that  Trunks can read him so easily. Bulma expects him to be dutiful and pay attention, but Vegeta knows the boy is just as bored as he is. In fact, if a certain doppelganger of Kakarot were not keeping him company right now, he is sure that Trunks would be playing away on the noisy game he likes to carry around. Or even better, causing some sort of mischief.

“Do it like we practiced, Bra!” Bulma whispers, raising her fists with anticipation. Vegeta cocks an eyebrow to this, wondering exactly the woman has planned. If it’s anything like he’s become used to for the past decade and some change, he knows it’ll be interesting. Chaotic, undoubtedly, but interesting.

Vegeta turns his attention to the stage finally, peering over the heads of rows of parents and children alike. No matter how much it pains him to admit it, he’s short. And short people, no matter how powerful, struggle to see past taller men who refuse to take better seats. Especially when Bulma insists they sit towards the back so Bra doesn’t get nervous when she sees them. He grunts louder this time, even letting a curse slip from his dirty lips. Several parents turn around in their seats and glare at him. Vegeta lets out a warning growl that’s similar to a bark and they change their minds in their judgment. Their faces go whiter than his tense knuckles and they turn around with no further complaints. He’s earned himself a heavy slap on the knee from Bulma. He grins wickedly as he sits with no regret. He never tires of putting inferiors in their places.

A miniature Bulma walks across the stage past her peers, her chin aimed pointedly high in the air. She oozes confidences and the children don’t like it. Vegeta has heard Bra complain about then to Bulma at bed time before. “They’re so boring, Mama,” she says in her five year old sleepy voice, “And they don’t want to talk to me.” Bulma asks her how she feels about it. Bra pulls the thick blanket to her chest and says truthfully, “I can beat them up so I don’t care.”

Vegeta has never been more proud.

Her actions prove her words true as she glides to the microphone, earning attentive eyes from the audience and her peers. A bright yellow banner hangs over her head, Father’s Day Assembly sprawled across the fabric. An arrogant smile —his arrogant smile— steals her face as she looks over the crowd. Her eyes land on his and she smiles and waves, a look of sincere glee coming over her features. He feels  the immediate embarrassment, but puts up two fingers in this air as a salute so she won’t cry about it later. He ignores Bulma’s yelping about how ‘cute’ the situation is.

“My name is Bra Briefs,” she says into the microphone, a little too low for Vegeta’s tastes, and he wants to tell her to talk louder, “And this is the story of my papa, Vegeta.” She extends a tiny palm in his direction. The stage lights hover over him and he grits his teeth. The parents don’t bother to turn and look, having already been bitten with his venom. He sits with patience until the light is back on Bra and then finally grumbles under his breath. 

“In order to tell this story, my friends said they would help me out. So I hope you enjoy this play! Me and my Mama worked real hard on it!” She turns to the curtain, the red of her ponytail ribbon matching the fabric perfectly. “Guys?” 

Vegeta is interested now, but the curiosity turns to vile as he watches Kakarot, Gohan, Piccolo and Krillin take center stage. They all seem embarrassed to be here, especially Piccolo. He hears a few parents wonder if he’s feeling sick. Vegeta questions what sort of manipulation Bulma’s used to get them to be here.  
“My Papa was a proud prince,” she starts, and an exact mirror of Vegeta walks smoothly on stage. He does a double take at first. Tarble? He’s about to question it further until he spots the tail and how wrong it is. It’s pink and curly where it should be long and brown. Of course Oolong would agree; he’s caught the Sunday dinner staring at his wife’s breasts a little too long on multiple occasions.

“He was the strongest prince of everyone in his kingdom, and no one could beat him, not even giant refrigerators and freezers!” Oolong-Vegeta flexes his muscles in a dramatic fashion, while kicking over a fridge prop, cleverly painter with specks of purple. This elicits a laugh out of Vegeta, but he keeps it low so Bulma doesn’t hear.

“One day, my Papa got too strong and he got bored. So he flew to Earth to rule over the people there.” Oolong is pretending to fly in a circle, getting closer to the four men to Bra’s right. “And when he came, a group of men who were…umm…Mama, what’s that word again?” 

“Naïve!” Bulma yells, and Bra smiles widely.

“That’s right, naïve. The group of men were naïve and thought they could beat him up.” A flash of anger rolls over Piccolo’s face. Vegeta hopes Bulma’s brought a camera.

“Aarrghh, I am Vegeta! Prince of all Saiyans! And I will whoop your butt!” Oolong is a bad actor and his voice is too squeaky to rival Vegeta’s. And  most important, Vegeta thinks, is that he would never use the words, “Whoop your butt.” Obliterate you? Sure. Send you the fiery pits of hell? Absolutely. But never, “I’m going to whoop your butt.” It sounds like a parent chastising a child, but he listens on anyways.

“No, Vegeta, we can’t let you do that,” Gohan is trying to act, but he’s too serious about it, “So please leave here at once.”

“I’m going to whoop your butt first, Goha—err — stranger!” Oolong produces some sort of contraption and confetti sprays in Gohan’s direction. Gohan dramatically falls to the stage, claiming he has been defeated. Goku starts laughing wildly, and Vegeta declares he will kill the man if he messes up his daughter’s stage play.

“One by one, the men come to fight my papa, but they are too weak and pathetic so they die,” Bra says this with such pride that Vegeta’s heart swells. Piccolo and Krillin fall to the ground, yelling  how strong Vegeta is. He turns to look at Bulma briefly, unable to believe that she would agree to help Bra with this inaccurate play.  She shrugs, as if indicating that this was all Bra’s idea.

“But one man didn’t seem to get it, so Papa had to put him in his place.” Goku grins and crouches down into his fighting stance, looking too seriously at Oolong-Vegeta. The buffoon. He can’t even pretend to fight without getting a hard on. Vegeta scoffs at his pathetic mannerisms.

“Even though you’re so much stronger than me, and I could never  ever beat you, I will fight you Vegeta!” Strangely enough, Goku isn’t bad at reciting his lines. Vegeta swallows away the compliment, mildly upset it penetrated his mind in the first place.

“Bring it on, Goku! “ Oolng pretends to fight Goku, once again disappointing Vegeta with his misrepresentation. He watches the two prance about and shoot fake lasers at each other. Goku is losing on purpose, and Vegeta relishes in how satisfactory the feeling is.

“After a long battle, the man dies a horrible, miserable death—“

“Oh no! I’m dying so miserably!”

“—Ending any defiance against my Papa. So he became the prince, no, the king of Earth. And he even found his queen in the audience!” Another person emerges from the curtain, wearing one of Bulma’s old dresses with a cheap blue wig on their head. Its Yamcha, Vegeta notices with disdain, and he’s tried a little too hard to dress like Bulma. She’s having several fits of laughter at his side, unable to even look at the stage anymore. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. Bulma is a devious genius.

“Oh Vegeta,” Yamcha has his hands resting at his cheek and his voice is higher in range, “Even though I’ve got a totally awesome boyfriend who’s the best thing that ever happened to me, I just can’t resist the Prince of Darkness!”

“Hmph,” Oolong-Vegeta folds his arms and closes his eyes, “Your boyfriend sucks. Drop that zero and get with a real man, pathetic woman.” Finally Oolong has gotten Vegeta correctly.

Yamcha runs daintly towards Oolong and they hug, although Yamcha has to bend down to embrace him. Vegeta grits his teeth and wants to yell out that he’s not  that short, and how the only time Bulma’s bending over is in the bedroom, but their children are present. He’s sure he’s scarred then enough already.

“And then my Mama and Papa got married and had me and brother Trunks! He’s still the strongest man on the planet,” he watches as her eyebrows mesh together in an angry fashion and her entire mood changes, “And if any of you ever disagree with me or him, he’ll make you all die a miserable and scary de—“

“Okay and thank you Ms. Briefs!” The principal of Bra’s school intervenes, her face a cloudy mix of disbelief and shock. She tries to laugh off her nerves by complimenting Bra on her creative imagination. The adults in the audience have covered their children’s ears and look toward the stage in fright. Vegeta lets out a heartfelt laugh, focusing unwanted attention on him. He’s clutching his belly as he bends over, not remembering the last time he was this entertained. The Briefs women have definitely outdone themselves.

Bra doesn’t bother to sit with her peers, instead walking off stage and heading directly to them. Her face is beaming as she approaches, running straight to Vegeta and hopping in his lap. She throws her arms around his neck and he lets her, feeling like she’s more than earned public affection.

“How did I do Papa?” she whispers in his ear, tossing a thumbs up to Trunks, Goten and Bulma.

Vegeta smiles and stands, seeing no reason to stay for the rest of this catastrophe. He gets it; these children like their inadequate fathers and their boring jobs of teachers and salesmen. But had their fathers ever saved the world? Ever brought them back to life? No? Then he has no interest in praising them.

He cradles Bra in his arms as they exit, and leans in close to her ear so that only she can hear. “It’s the best Father’s Day gift I’ve ever received,” he says and means it. “Just don’t tell your brother.” 

I haven’t edited this, so please forgive any errors

also I may or may not have written this while I’m drunk soooo


	20. Chapter 20

Her face is what happens when the sun stains footprints across the sky. He can’t understand why she glows this way every time she sees him.

“Vegeta…” her voice is thick with tears, matching the ones sliding down her cheeks. She opens her mouth to say more, her lips fumbling over unspoken words. Then she decides to let his name trail off in the wind as she smiles instead, flashing him a sole thumb.

He feels his hand being pulled downwards, forcing him to look away from Bulma. He’s met with large blue eyes that rival her own, except on a much smaller face. His face. There’s a smile so big there it threatens to swallow him whole. He grunts uncomfortably, but says nothing.

“I heard you, Papa!” Trunks looks at Vegeta with so much admiration it makes his chest swell. He’s never told the boy, but the way Trunks looks at him always makes him feel like a winner. Like he’s never faced a loss in his life. “I heard you asking for the Earth’s help! That was really cool of you, Papa!”

At the reminder, Vegeta feels an immense amount of relief. Less than an hour ago, he was staring death in the face. He couldn’t make peace with it, not this time. Not when he heard that Bulma died. Or Trunks. Killed because of some insane pink blob that he couldn’t destroy. That he was too weak to get proper vengeance from for the death of his family.

And here he stands, his son tugging on his arm, his wife gleaming at him like she’s been waiting lifetimes to see them. Vegeta has never known what it would be like to miss them, but the peaceful calm that being reunited with them brings washes over him in soft waves.

He turns back to Bulma, meeting those emotional eyes that make him feel uneasy. On one hand, he’s used to her living freely in her feelings. He’s used to the idea that, for whatever reason, she’s chosen to love him. To give him a son. To marry him when he was at his lowest, to praise him when he trains for his strongest. It’s a comfortable dream that lives in the back of his mind, one that he’s grown accustomed to all of these years.

On the other, he doesn’t like this feeling. It’s new, despite the time he’s had this family. He doesn’t know how to fully welcome the sense of home Bulma and Trunks gives him. He doesn’t know what to make of their adoration for him, their belief in anything he does. Nappa used to do it, Raditz too, but with them it always felt like a contest. Felt like he needed to be the best so they never got any ideas of who was the rightful prince. Their words of praise fell to his feet just short of his ears. But with his family….it is different.

He swallows as the thought crosses his mind. Different… like a satisfying relief. Like what he imagined beating Frieza would feel like. Or being the prince of a race that marched behind him. Or reaching a level that Kakarot could never ascend to. He agonized over it in hell; living with all of his regrets like a loop de loop of a film he didn’t want to see. Dying for nothing. Kakarot’s deception about his power level. Killing those people at the tournament because he let that idiot Babidi give him superficial power. Hearing Bulma’s screams from the crowd. At the time he didn’t care; he was too wrapped up in trying to fight Kakarot. But when he thought about his former life with the living, her screams echoed through his brain until he could barely stand it.

He doesn’t notice when she’s walked closer to them, but her hand is on his shoulder. “You okay?” Her eyes still glimmer with tears.

He studies her face for a pause before nodding slowly. “Trunks,” he turns down to his son, who is still clinging to his hand, “Do you have the energy to fly home yourself?”

A seed of determination sprouts across the boys face, and he lets go of Vegeta to flex his arms outright. “You bet I do, Papa!” Soft gusts of wind pick up around Trunks’ body, and while his power is weaker than normal, it’s still more than enough than Vegeta could ever give him credit for. He is his son, indeed.

“Good,” Vegeta turns to Bulma and grabs her hand, leading her away from the cheerful audience behind them. Her face breaks out into astonishment and Vegeta can’t blame her. This isn’t like him, he knows. He’s never reached for her like this before, outside of their bedroom anyways. But he pulls her until the gap between them is nonexistent. Her chest ghosts against his own and she stares at him with widened eyes. Vegeta stares back, as if he’s seeing her for the first time. He lets his eyes say what his pride won’t allow him to. That he’s sorry. Sorry for the tournament, sorry for dying. Sorry for not protecting her. For not protecting their son. Sorry she died. Sorry he wasn’t with her when she did. Sorry that she missed him. Sorry for it all.

And behind all of that, he hopes she can see something else. Something that makes him blush as soon as he thinks it. Something that he can’t say, even though she’s always told him it’s okay. Says that she can map it  on his face as if his skin is made of stars. But now, given the circumstances, he hopes that she can read it clear.

She smiles and squeezes that hand that circles around hers. “Oh, Vegeta,” she wipes her eyes dry, a soft laugh falling from her lips. Her voice curls around him until he can barely breathe, and he’s realized now how quiet it’s been without her around. Once upon a time ago, he would’ve felt victorious at getting her to shut up, but now he feels its necessary to hear her speak. “I really love you, you big dummy.”

He chuckles at her spunk. She’s the only one  can ever insult him and not make him feel disrespected. He supposes its always been like that with her, really. Even when he threatened her life in the beginning. Who would’ve though, he thinks quickly, that he’d be here with her and their child now? Especially considering his state of mind back then. Life’s funny that way, he guesses.

“Bulma,”he says softly enough for her to hear, “Are you ready to go home? “

She sighs in relief, as if she’s been waiting to hear that. With everything that’s been going on, he knows home must sound like a vacation to her. She nods, looking to Trunks.

“Trunks,” Vegeta calls, scooping Bulma’s legs under his arms. She cuffs her hands together around his neck, and he’s reminded of how well she fits into his arms. How perfect her curves molds into him. “It’s time to leave.” He walks to the edge of the Lookout, not bothering to turn around and announce their departure to anyone else. No one else matters to him right now, anyways.

The wind carries them as he flies over the edge, cradling Bulma close to his chest. Trunks follows them, circling around them with some childish tricks he like to do. Normally, Vegeta would tell him to stop and just fly regularly, but for now he’ll just let the boy live. For now, he just wants to live. He’s just happy to live.

And Vegeta vows to make sure that he does just that. Live. Live to be the strongest. Live to never be this weak anymore. Live for himself. Live for them.

He’ll never let this be taken away from him again.

OooOooo

So I found this in my phone while I was cleaning it out. Figured I’d share.


	21. Stars

The stars sprinkle across the inked sky like sugar dust, hundreds of small glowing dots that Vegeta knows he could never reach.

He remembers trying to touch them during long expeditions to various planets, whichever one Frieza demanded that he, Nappa and Raditz purge, but no matter how close he got to them, their burning embers always echoed past his fingertips until he ultimately gave up trying.

But here, here underneath the brilliance of a full moon at midnight, he feels like he can finally grab them between his fingers, if he wanted to.

Stars, thousands of them, more luminous than any that he’s ever witnessed.

They’re in her eyes, in the spaces of her pearlescent teeth. They’ve replaced the pointed nail of her fingertips, embedded in the shine of her porcelain skin, even buried underneath the words she’s just spoken:

“I had a dream about you.”

She says it so carelessly; the words rolling off of her tongue like rolling waters until it puddles down to her feet. Vegeta is frozen into silence at how… how tender she’s said it. Like some silly admission from an adolescent girl. Like in those ridiculous movies that she watches.

He had been lying on his back, his unwavering gaze targeted on the sky so maybe she could get the hint. Maybe she would change her mind on sitting with him out here and head back inside. Maybe she wouldn’t stick around and make him question if he really hated all Earthlings. Make him forget that he’d sworn off anything more than a necessary fuck now and then from a pricy hooker in some corner of the galaxy.

But of course she didn’t. Of course she sticks around, mumbling some irrelevant shit about her day or her parents or some bitter comment about her former partner. He fought the urge to tell her he didn’t give a damn - - - which by all means is perplexing enough to him. There’s no way in hell that he would entertain such worthless chatter from anyone else. But with her, he doesn’t mind.

Much.

She had grown silent for a few minutes, and Vegeta found the silence…unnerving. He had grown accustomed in the past hour or so to hearing her voice, even if it did make him want to run his fists into the nearest crater. But the sounds of the night creatures replacing her chirpy voice only aggravated him more, and he felt compelled to ask her a question so that she could fill the void of silence between them.

But then she had said that ridiculous thing.

He’s looking at her now, with one bushy eyebrow pushed to the top of his head to his widows peak, his lips slightly patted. He doesn’t understand why he’s so taken aback by her statement, but he finds himself patiently waiting for her to continue.

And on cue, she does.

“You had done it, had finally done it.” She stretches her legs on the lawn and rests and elbow on her knee, gobbling Vegeta up with those large, blue eyes of hers. They looked like planets, like her planet. Little craters that Vegeta would have loved to destroy just for fucks sake, but now he just stares back into them like they’re an oasis. “You left and came back, and when you came to me your skin rivaled the sun. It was just like Gohan said. Like what he said Goku looked like. I was so proud of you.”

Vegeta can’t help but to hang onto her words like it’s his final lifeline. It isn’t as if he needs her confirmation, as if she has some magical elixir underneath her words that will help him ascend. But… there’s something about the way she says it. Something about her words that hold an honest conviction, like she believes it even without seeing. It indeed makes him feel like a god. It’s so sincere, her words, that it’s enough to make him ask:

“Was I strong? Stronger than Kakarot? “

She grins at him with enough arrogance to rival his own. “You were so strong. I remember feeling afraid, worried that you had gotten too powerful. But after seeing you like that, seeing you so confident and happy, it made me admire your tenacity. That’s how I know.”

“Know what?” There’s a tiny alarm that rings loudly inside of Vegeta’s head, one that demands that abort those conversation and fly off of Capsule Corps entirely. He feels the familiar pull of his defenses begin to trigger, but then she smiles at him. It’s a simple thing, really. It can’t be any more than what she’s given to any of those other asswipes that she acquaints herself with. He refuses to believe that the stars in her eyes have settled there just for him.

“That you’ll do it. That you’ll become a super Saiyan and kick those Android asses.” She punches wildly in the air, and Vegeta scoffs at dramatic display. “I’ve seen it now, you know.”

“But you were dreaming.”

“Yeah but… “she lowers her hand and begins to draw tiny circles around her knee with her finger. Vegeta swears he can see her skin glowing underneath her nail as she traces small figure eights. “Dream Vegeta isn’t any different from real Vegeta. The dedication is the same, and so is the drive. I was convinced youd get there before, but now I’m absolutely certain. It’s only a matter of time. “

No, no, no, no. Absolutely not. She shouldn’t be saying that to him. That should be her worse nightmare. She shouldn’t radiate as she talks about him reaching the ultimate power. She should cower away the second a tendril of hair glows golden. She’s out of her mind if she thinks It’s okay to stare at him like that, like she really is proud.

And he shouldn’t care if she is or not.

But….

  
… he does.

  
A little, anyways. Like how his chest is heating up at the thought of landing on Capsule Corps grounds bathing in a sea of lightning. How mighty he feels to not only have bested Kakarot, but to have her see him like that. See him for all he’s worth outside of picking on the weak inhabitants of this planet. See that he earns every bit the title of Saiyan prince. He’s not ready to admit it aloud, but the thought is doing wonders for his ego.

He doesn’t even realize he’s been staring at her since she’s made her admission. He doesn’t let his brain slow down his assessment of her face, or the swelling of his pride at her prophecy. It isn’t until she scoots closer to him that he realizes that silent minutes have stretched between them. That she’s been holding his stare as intensely as he has with her. That he’s seeing those stars shoot across her eyes and into the hollows of her cheeks. That her lips part to say something, but instead she lets them hang open, tiny wisps of cold smoke dancing from them.

He watches as her hand comes close to his that is resting on the ground at his side. He feels that pull, hears that alarm, but his body has gone slack. He lets her brush her fingers against his own until her hand is covering the top of his. It’s warm where he’s cold, wet where he’s dry. It’s odd, and he can’t say he’s comfortable with it, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Just doesn’t.

  
He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t wondered what would be like. That for the past few days he’d begun to wonder what would happen if he just reached out and touched her. Wondered what would happen when fire collided with ice. Would her skin shrivel away like his fingers were tiny, burning suns? Or would she melt into his sins until they both dissolved into the fiery magma of hell altogether?

None of that happens, just milky skin sitting on top of ivory. He looks down to where their skin touches. It’s all wrong. No, he shouldn’t be allowing this, and especially not with her. She’s already gotten too close. She’s already asked too many questions. She’s already gotten to know parts of him that he swore to never say. But her hand is warm…. Her hand is warm… her hand is warm and her skin is made of stars.

“I can’t wait to see you as a Super Saiyan.” She winks at him, and Vegeta feels the rest of his resolve shrinking. Shrinking like the space between them. Shrinking the gaps in between his fingers that she’s laced with her own. Shrinking like tense muscles in his face, or the alarm in his head, or the pull of his defenses.

Shrinking like the morality of everything he knew. Everything he’d sworn by.

So he lets her do it. He doesn’t ask any more questions, and she doesn’t demand anymore conversations. They sit there, her hand on his, his eyes on her, their minds far away from whatever normal they thought they knew. He doesn’t mind it as much as he’d thought, her touching him like this.

Because her skin is made of stars, and he finally gets to touch them.

 

 


	22. Game Night

so my goal for the new years is to clear out my one shot requests (I swear I get them all, I just haven't found the time, but I'm working on it!) This was written for hannabelllecter

Game Night

oooOOOooo

"So, who am I supposed to be again?"

Trunks stands on a chair in the Capsule Corps living room, his arms folded across his chest, a thick lavender eyebrow pushed up as far as it will go. His mother has just finished going over the list of rules, but between her slurring and his sister's giggling, he can't comprehend what they are.

"C'mon, Trunks!" Bulma's cheeks are flushed to a deep red, resembling the spirit that swirls around in her cup. She's trying to remain upright on the sofa by balancing an elbow on her perched leg, but every once in a while she almost slips into the iron grip of gravity. "You've gotta pay attention to the rules! There's a lot and repeating them is hard!"

"Tsk," Vegeta stands on the dining room table, a thick mask of annoyance weighing down his features, "This is why this is a dumb idea. Games are for children and I have more important things I could be doing with my time."

"Games aren't dumb, Papa!" Bra finds herself on top of a small table, her tiny fists clenched at her side. "They're a lot of fun and we never play them together!"

"Yeah, Vegeta, stop being such a spoil sport," Bulma takes another sip of her wine and narrows her eyes towards him, "It's New Year's Eve and we should be spending it as a family. It's going to be fun, if you stop being so damn grouchy."

"Language, Mama!" Bulma giggles a short apology to her daughter.

"If we're supposed to be spending time as a family, then why the hell-"

" _Language_ , Papa!"

"…Then  _why_ is  _he_  here?!" Vegeta points a thick accusatory finger across the room to the other side table, one that houses a teenager with black shaggy hair.

"Goten  _is_  family, Dad," Trunks places both hands at his side, his expression obviously offended by Vegeta's insensitive words. "He's literally here  _all the time_."

"I'm painfully aware." Vegeta can't help but to feel sour as he glares at Goten. Not that it's the kid's fault, but he doesn't want to be playing this stupid game. He wants to go off with Kakarot and Whis to train, do something useful with his time. But that damned Bulma used kryptonite against him to entertain this shitty game- namely in the form of his six year old daughter. Vegeta may be an unstoppable force capable of destruction, but one pouty look from Bra reduces him to nothing more than putty for her to mold.

"It'll be fun, Uncle Vegeta!" Goten scratches the back of his head and flashes Vegeta a goofy, lopsided grin. He looks more like his oaf of a father than ever, is annoying like him too. He doesn't understand how his son puts up with him every day, even if Vegeta  _kind_  of finds the kid entertaining. Not that he'll ever admit it.

"Stop calling me your uncle! I'm not your damned father's brother, and I'm  _certainly_ not Raditz!"

"Papa! Your language!"

" _Alright can we start already!?_ " Bulma takes an exaggerated sigh and gulps down a large drink of her wine. Dende knows she loves her family, but nights like this makes her wish she had a  _normal_  family to do  _normal_  family activities. "I'll go over the rules one more time so that everyone is on the same board. I'm the gate keeper and I decide what happens in this scenario."

"Why do  _you_  get to decide?" Vegeta sounds like a pouty child, sure, but he would rather be in his wife's position, drinking wine and tossing her finger around with demands.

"Because unlike the rest of you, I wouldn't stand a chance against any enemy. It's not my fault I don't have Saiyan blood in me."

"Maybe," Trunks corrects, feeling the laugh brewing in his belly, "But it  _is_  your fault that me and Bra do. So that's not a good enough excuse, Mom." Goten roars his approval of Trunk's joke, saying how he'll have to use that joke on his own mother, if she didn't kill him afterwards that is.

Bulma slits her eyes to her teenage son, choosing instead to bathe in the warmth of her buzz instead of his tasteless joke. "So as I was saying before I was so  _rudely_  interrupted, I'm the boss here. Trunks, you're Frieza and your chair is Namek before it blows up. Bra, I assign you the role of Kid Buu and your table is Kaioshin's planet. Vegeta, you're Vegeta and you have to get both of them to fall to the floor to take their domain."

"What about me?" Goten shoves a thumb in his chest enthusiastically, wanting to be in on the game too.

"You're Goku, duh."

"Aww," Goten hangs his head low, "I'm always my Dad in these games."

Bulma shrugs and leans back, polishing off her glass entirely. "Those are the breaks, Goten. Genetics win in this decision, so you just have to accept it."

He takes a deep breath before muttering out a, "Fine."

"What happens if I fall, Mama?" Bra raises her hand politely, just like she's been taught in school.

"Then you'll be burnt to a crisp, little one, because the floor is lava."

"This is too complicated," Vegeta grits his teeth, turning to glare at the wall. "The floor is lava now?"

"The floor's always been lava!" Bulma pours herself another glass to deal with her husband's incessant complaining. She's tempted to slide him a glass too so he can loosen up, but that's the luxury of being the gate keeper. All the wine and none of the fighting. "So is everyone ready? Good! Here's the scenario. Frieza over here is about to blow up the planet and he's  _really_ pissed."

"I am so pissed!" Trunks tries to recall the feminine voice Frieza had all those years ago, and if the vein throbbing in Vegeta's head has anything to say about it, he's done a good job. "And you all shall pay!"

"Very  _good_  Trunks," Bulma raises her glass to cheer him, making him blush despite his bravado. "That's the Frieza we all know and love. Now aside from him saying completely belittling and racist things-"

"Stupid, low budget monkeys!"

"-Oh my. He's also set the planet to blow up in  _five_ minutes." She stretches out her fingers for emphasis and grabs her phone, quickly setting a timer. "So Vegeta you have to knock him off the table using your Nerf gun. But be careful, Frieza's Nerf gun is  _waaaay_  stronger and shoots three at you at once."

"Impossible!" Vegeta roars, picking his Nerf gun off of the table. "Frieza is nowhere equal to me in strength. I should have the better gun!"

"What's wrong, monkey prince?" Trunks has completely taken on Frieza's persona, so much so that it catches his father off guard. "Are you worried that I'll have you burning before you can properly address me as Lord Frieza?"

Vegeta glares at his son long and hard for several seconds. Trunks is good,  _too_  good, and it's making him have flashbacks of all Frieza's reign years ago. "Watch it boy," he threatens softly, trying to contain his anger, "Don't let your words be your demise."

"Oh hoh! Such strong words coming from a filthy monkey!" Trunks extends his gun and points it directly across the room, in the middle of his father's forehead. "I'd really like to see you try."

"Tick tock, boys," Bulma checks down at her phone with a sly grin on her lips, "You've only got three minutes left."

Vegeta forgets for a second that Trunks is his son.

Immediately he fires off several rounds at 'Frieza' the same way he would spam with his ki blasts. Trunks manages to dodge them all, but a few times he almost slips from the table.

"Careful big brother!" Bra is unsure of who to root for, considering she's supposed to be a villain too, but her heart goes pitter patter as she watches Trunks almost fall for the third time. "The floor is lava!"

"I'm aware,  _Buu_ ," Trunks has not lost his Frieza persona, instead glaring at his sister for breaking character, "But you need not worry about me. There's another filthy monkey behind you who is gunning for your fall."

Bra turns around just in time to see Goten shooting off a blast towards her body. She stares ahead incredulously before she lifts her body in the air, the Nerf bullet flying just under her feet.

"Hey, Bra!" Bulma whistles, placing a hand on her hip, "No flying! That's cheating! If you do it again I'll have to disqualify you."

"But you didn't tell me I was fighting too, Mama!"

"There are no rules to a real fight, Bra," Vegeta is dodging a trio of Bullets while still aiming for Trunks, "A real Saiyan warrior is always prepared for combat. Are you not a Saiyan warrior?"

"No! I'm Kid Buu!"

"Hmph. Well his defenses were flawless, so I'd say you have a lot to improve on." Trunks gets Vegeta with a good shot to the chest and he stumbles backwards, his foot skidding over the edge of the table.

"Careful, hun," Bulma glances down to her watch again, "You've only got two minutes fifteen seconds before Frieza will win. So don't fall because-"

"The floor is lava!" Vegeta spits out, feeling much more annoyed now, "I fucking get it!"

"Language, Papa!"

"What do you say, monkey? Do you really think you can defeat me in such a short amount of time?" Trunks fires off three more, but Vegeta smacks them away with his hand. He pulls his trigger and lets another round go, hitting Trunks smack in the face. Bra laughs wildly at the red print left behind.

"I wouldn't get too carried away with their battle, Buu! Not when you've got a foe here in front of you!" Goten manages to hit Bra in the back and she yelps before turning around angrily. "That's the spirit, you monster! Fight me!"

"Goten…." Bra's anger crackles around her like lightning, her eyes becoming just as deadly and dangerous as her father's. "That wasn't very nice."

"I'm  _not_  Goten! I'm ally to good and nightmare to you! I am Son Goku!" Goten's stance resembles that of a superhero, one that his father would be proud to see. Bra is not amused.

"I'm gonna get you, stupid half monkey."

"Buu wasn't racist, Bra!" Vegeta laughs with victory as he hits his son again, edging him closer and closer to the floor. "Find some other way to offend Kakarot."

Bra exhales her annoyance but chooses to use her actions instead of her words. She spams Goten relentlessly with Nerf bullets until he's forced to put his own gun down for defense.

"Come on Bra!" he squeals, "Now you're just being unfair!"

"I'm  _not_ Bra," she mocks him from earlier, "I'm Kid Buu and I'm here to mess you up, Son Goku."

"That's my girl!" Vegeta's feeling proud for two reasons right now. One: Bra is the spitting image of him on the battle field and he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel good to watch 'Kakarot' struggle. Two: Trunks is losing, and  _hard_.

"Fifty seven seconds!"Bulma calls, drinking the remainder of her umpteenth glass. "And that goes for you guys over there too. Mama's got to lay down in a few."

"Don't you worry, Mama," Bra's tongue sticks out between her lips as she continuously hits Goten, "This won't need longer than that."

"Likewise." Vegeta dodges one last trio from Trunks before he fires the perfect shot, hitting him directly in the chest. Trunks can't contain his balance any longer and falls off the chair.

"Damn you monkey prince!"

"Language, Trunks!" Bra, Bulma and Vegeta scold.

Vegeta throws his head back and cackles, resting his gun against his shoulder. "Would you look at that? The almighty Frieza melting away in a pit of lava. How does it feel Frieza? How does it feel to grovel at the feet of 'monkey prince'?"

"Gloat while you can, Vegeta. I'll be back. I  _always_  come back. Just when you think you'll never see me again, I'll be back to shake your entire world upside down!"

"Hmph. I won't hold my breath."

"And Vegeta, Prince of the Saiyans, is the winner!" Bulma pretends to be an audience, cheering Vegeta on with gusto. He relishes in it, a prideful smile spreading across his lips. "Now for our other two contenders, we only have twenty -three seconds remaining! Who will be victorious?"

"Ouch! Come on, stop it Bra!"Goten puts his hands up in defense as Bra sprays him with one foam bullet after another until a pool of orange pellets lay at his feet.

"Buu won't stop until Buu dead! And Buu no die!" Bra laughs manically, impersonating a creature she's never met before so flawlessly. Vegeta slowly claps his hands in the background.

"Well stop it, Buu!"

"Never!"

"Fifteen seconds!"

Bra moves her gun from top to bottom, leaving no inch of Goten uncovered. She leaves no holes in her defenses for him to shoot her back, making this a very one-sided fight.

"Your father would be so disappointed in you," Vegeta chides Goten, "Embarrassing his name like that. Kakarot would at least put up a decent fight."

"I'm  _trying_  Uncle Vegeta! It's not my fault you guys spawned this little Devil! Bra is insanely strong!"

"Indeed she is," Vegeta replies proudly.

"Eight seconds!"

Bra fires at his feet. Goten kicks them away.

"Five!"

Goten finally manages to hit her. The bullet pounces off of her belly and leaves her with no damage. It's his last resort.

"Two seconds!"

Bra hits him with one last bullet, making Goten lose his grip. Whatever, it's not like he's going to win. If he falls from the table, it's over. If he can't make Bra fall in two seconds, it's over.

Might as well go out on his own terms.

He turns and jumps off the table, landing feet first in the 'lava'. Bra howls in irritation.

"Where's your pride, Goten!? You're going to just  _let_  me win? You're a disgrace!"

Vegeta exclaims how proud he is to be her father.

"And time! And Kid Buu is the winner! Congratulations to the winners of the game!" Bra squeals up and down in delight, her Nerf gun high above her head. Vegeta simply grunts, although a smile is painted permanently on his face.

"What do we win Mama? We didn't fall into the lava!"

"Well other than my undying love and gratitude, you two win freedom from cleaning the living room and kitchen! It seems Goku and Frieza will be taking on that load."

Trunks and Goten groan from their positions, hanging their heads low.

"Pick your frown up, boy!" Vegeta lowers his gun and points it to Trunks. "And your gun too." Trunks looks confused and turns to Bulma, who just shrugs her shoulders and drinks more wine. Vegeta chuckles darkly, a sinister grin forming on his lips. "I must say I rather enjoyed this game night, and I'd like to proceed to round two. You did say you were coming back after all, didn't you?"

Goten yelps with excitement and declares how this time he'll get his revenge on Bra/Buu. Bulma laughs and says she can hold off on her nap, deciding to go over the rules once again. A slow, understanding grin spreads on Trunks' face and he stands up to ready himself on the chair.

"Well you filthy monkey, let's see how you fare against Golden Frieza."

oooOOOooo

I hope you enjoyed this jumble of words (and I hope it made sense lol. Wine writing always gets me to write silly one shots like this) Happy New Year, everyone!


	23. Three...Two...One...

_This one shot was written for sbubbia after viewing their lovely art work on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy this. Also written un-beta'd and written on my phone so please excuse any mistakes._

**Three. Two. One**

oooOOOooo

"Sometimes," he can remember Bulma saying years and years ago, "I get so frustrated when I can't work out these numbers and figures. It almost makes my head explode and I think to myself, "Why am I doing this? Am I smart enough to even call myself a scientist? But," he thinks to her smile then, remembers how she swiveled in her chair to face him with a face full of determination, "Then I just countdown in my head, 'three, two, one,' and take a few deep breaths and I swear my brain regains it's clarity. It's amazing how just a quick reboot of your nerves makes the solution so simple."

He hadn't really cared as to why she was telling him this at the time. Hadn't bothered to ask her what the hell she was talking about- as a matter of fact, he had  _only_  been there waiting as she fixed whatever the hell was wrong with the GR machine. But that was Bulma for him, always publicly announcing her thoughts as if he had a penny for them.

And that was also Bulma for him. Telling him some run of the mill advice that he wouldn't know he needed yet. But he always needed it. He always needed her when it really counted.

Because here he is again, body aching and bloodied, whatever pride and prophecies he foolishly attached himself to irrelevant, and with her words echoing through his mind. And with the solution to this problem so overwhelmingly simple.

_Take a few deep breaths._

It's like an apocalypse now, this battlefield that might as well be a cemetery. Just a few moments ago he was struggling to breathe, struggling to hold on to the importance of his power, the importance of his victory. That obese, pink piece of shit had robbed him of his redemption, had made his willing possession from Babidi seem that much more worthless. At that time, Vegeta was sure that he was going to die a foolish warrior's death, and it was the most fear he had felt in a long time.

But then his son…

Vegeta grasps on the strings of reality then, the squeaky voice from his boy ringing in his ears. He looks down to him and Kakarot's child, both of them shining brightly in their ascended form. He tries to pay attention to whatever they're saying, but all he can do is look at Trunks' face. God, it was like he was staring at another version of himself. Had he really paid attention to how much the boy resembled him? Outside of the graces of Bulma's genetics, Vegeta heart momentarily swells at the history of his people in Trunks' features. He can see his own mother there, his father too, and the father who came before him. The proud royalty of the Saiyan race now rests in the chubby cheeks of this seven year old. It's almost too much, but it's fitting. It's comforting that his legacy will carry on through his child. A child that is impressively strong and has made him proud in more than one time line.

"Dad! Just let me and Goten fight him!"Trunks squeezes his fists together as a cocky grin spreads over his mouth.  _His_  grin. "We can beat that stupid Buu! We're really strong, Dad! "

"Yeah Uncle! We might even be stronger than you!" Goten quickly realizes there error of his words and clasps his hands over his mouth, prompting Trunks to do the same. Despite their arrogance, Vegeta isn't offended. For one, they are pretty strong. Maybe not stronger than him, but he's learned to not depend on that. Children can surpass expectations, it seems, if Gohan used to have any say over it.

For two, he can't seem to fully latch on to their words, because he's too busy studying Trunks. For a brief moment, Vegeta feels shame that he hasn't been a good enough father. Trunks is strong by his hand, indeed, but what else has he taught the boy? Outside of family dinners, can Trunks say much about spending time with his father? Sometimes, Vegeta doesn't understand the twinkle the boy has in his eye for him, so similar and yet so distant to his counterpart from the future, doesn't understand what he has to offer him in terms of parental guidance. Has ever even properly hugged the boy? Has he ever told him how much he  _really_ cares for him, how the thought of destroying planets only makes sense if it's in his or his mother's best interest?

Has he done anything nice for the boy at  _all?_

He swallow thickly, arm stretched out with a decision made. "Trunks, " he calls to him, a grin spreading on his face. "You're my only son and yet, I haven't held you once since you were a baby, have I?"

Trunks' features grow confused, not that Vegeta is surprised. He is probably expecting him to lash out over Goten's comment, and he definitely isn't used to such tender words coming from his father. He hands drop from his mouth as his lips part, a golden eyebrow pushing towards his hairline. "Wh-Wha…? "

Vegeta wastes no time in waiting for his reply. It isn't on their side anyways, that fickle thing called time. It's only moments before Buu emerges from whatever crater the boys launched him in, and both Goten and Trunks need to be far away by then.

He steps close enough to scoop Trunks under his arm, pulling him close to his body. The boy's face has turned the color of scarlet, resembling Bulma whenever she's flustered about something. He groans about his embarrassment, but Vegeta doesn't care. One day, Trunks will hold on to this memory when, hopefully, he has a son of his own.

It feels nice, hugging his boy like this. Makes him feel like… like a father. Like a father who couldn't ask for a better child, for a better family. Only it took him this long to realize it when it is too late. Much, much, too late.

"Trunks," he puts all of his affection that a demon like him can have into saying his name, "Take care of your mother." This confuses him even more, Vegeta can tell, and he stares at his father with wide eyes and parted lips. There's a lot more Vegeta wants to tell him, a lot more to this message for Bulma that sleeps under his tongue. But that would be selfish. He had years and years to say those sorts of things to his wife, and she deserves more than to hear them from someone else. Even his own son.

So instead he lets Trunks ramble on his questions of 'why can't Vegeta take care of her' and 'what does that mean', and builds up as much honesty that he can and says:

"You've made me so proud of you, my son."

_Take a deep breath._

He watches as Trunks' face momentarily beams with happiness before it breaks completely, an urgent accusation of betrayal and 'why Dad?' cutting across his eyes. As Vegeta's arm retreats from the base of his neck, Trunks' hair has descended back to its lilac and his eyes have gone cold. Vegeta hopes the boy didn't take it personally, hopes he knows that under no circumstances would Vegeta hurt him like this. It's for his own good. Goten's too.

He turns to the other child, ignoring his cries about Trunks being knocked out cold, and swiftly thrusts his fist in the middle of the boy's squishy belly, immediately silencing his protest. Vegeta apologizes to both of them silently as Goten drops next to Trunks, his black hair swimming through his roots back to life. It has to be this way, one day they'll understand that.

Vegeta feels a familiar energy descend from behind him, one that he knows has been watching them this entire time. He doesn't turn around to face him, doesn't matter what he has to say. If he's as smart of a fighter as he's always lets on, then he'll understand Vegeta's motives.

He hears the sand crumple where Trunks and Goten's bodies are being scooped up, and he's grateful that of all the warriors, it's Piccolo who is here now. He needs results, not questions, and he definitely doesn't want to be slowed down. After all, he's just felt a spike of Buu's energy, and knows that only mere minutes separates them all from this world and the next one.

He does have one question, however, that someone like Piccolo can answer. Vegeta wants to know, is this all worth it? This sacrifice, this final resort that he has, is it even  _worth_ it? He thinks sadly, for a moment, that he's once again back at the front of his insecurity: fighting Kakarot just isn't going to happen. He'll never know who is the strongest, he'll never reclaim his fallen dignity as a Saiyan prince. All he'll have is a dream and nightmare colliding into each other until they resemble a man this planet calls Goku. It isn't fair, but then again, it really is.

Piccolo calls him out then, lets him know that he understands what Vegeta's true intentions are. Vegeta doesn't answer. Piccolo is smart, he doesn't need to ask rhetorical questions. Besides, there's something more pressing they need to discuss in the little time they have to speak.

"When I die," he says quietly until his voice fades into the wind, "Will I be able to go train like Kakarot did? Will I be able to fight with him again someday?"

With anyone else, his question would have thrown them off. They would have choked down the truth and tried to sugarcoat some fitting answer that sounds like artificial hope. But what Vegeta has always appreciated about Piccolo is that honesty coats the man's tongue long before a white lie ever would. "We don't have a lot of time so I won't waste time lying to you. Goku has selflessly saved this world and universe time and time again, even sacrificing himself to do so. But you…. You have only killed and destroyed. You've left too much pain behind, more than good. When you die, youwill go to hell where your soul will reborn. Maybe in the next life you can do something better with it."

 _In the next life_ , Vegeta thinks with a scoff. If Vegeta's lucky, he'll be done with this whole living in mediocrity thing forever. Second place just doesn't suit someone like him. But Piccolo words don't bring sadness or anger. Honestly, it's what Vegeta's been expecting. He hasn't done anything good outside of his part in Trunks' existence. Even Bulma, the woman that he should have given more of himself to, has nothing to benefit from his presence aside from a child. He loves her, she is the first person to make Vegeta understand love, the first to receive the broken and twisted love he has to offer, and he can't think of one good thing he's done for her. He'll make it right. For her and Trunks, he'll make it right.

"Take them and go far, Piccolo." Buu is on the move again, and his power terrifyingly increases with each passing second. Vegeta feels a moment of hesitation and fear, but he swallows it down. He'll go out with his pride intact, and he'll go out proud that he was able to defeat Buu. His mess, his cleanup. Even if he isn't around to see it.

_Take a deep breath._

Piccolo wastes no time in flying away, something Vegeta is grateful for. He focuses in on Trunks' ki until he can't feel him anymore. Piccolo has done well, and he hopes it enough. He hopes, most of all, that the boy has a good life. That he has the protection and strength he needs to protect this planet and his mother. He demands that Dende not let Mirai Trunks' arrival back then have been done in vain.

Buu stomps and screeches down a hill just in front of him, beating his chest like an insane clown. It disgusts Vegeta, but he doesn't let the arrogant smile waver from his face. His mind goes back a second to Trunks minutes ago, back when he sported the same grin. He drifts back further in time to the numerous occasions when Bulma would plaster that same look, whenever she was boasting to him or believing in him, her thumb raised with a wink tossed his way. It was her signature, "I'm proud of you, Vegeta!" without so many words and he would miss it. God, would he miss it.

_Start a countdown._

_Three…_

Vegeta waits for Buu to get closer , just close enough, before he chuckles. The plump asshole really thinks he's unstoppable, really thinks that he will be victorious here.

He's dead wrong.

"I know how to deal with you." Vegeta points a thick finger towards Buu, the tattered white fabric of his glove hanging from his skin. He doesn't wait for Buu to respond with some childish comeback, doesn't give him time to charge up an attack that will leave Vegeta helpless. No, no this has to happen, and this has to happen  _now._

_Two._

Vegeta reaches down to his belly, past any barriers that exist for his safety, grabbing every single drop of his power until he feels it spilling from his pores. It feels overwhelming, having all of his power at his disposal like this. He'd even bet that he's leagues past that Super Saiyan 2 nonsense. But it also feels like sand running from his fingers, like he's on a well timed countdown until he explodes like a nuclear bomb. Feels like he's losing it faster than he can relish in it.

The air around him has quickened into a golden frenzy, kicking dirt and debris in a cyclone that covers his body, extending out towards Buu. It's getting harder to breathe in this hell he's created for himself, the flames of his volcanic power licking at his skin. But he doesn't feel that pain. Instead Vegeta feels a different pain.

Bulma. Trunks.

They're the only good to happen to him in his life. The only family he's known since his father weakly sold him to the torment of Frieza. Raditz and Nappa were once his acquaintances, but that was more out of necessity than desire. But those two…. Those two became his reason. His reason to stay on Earth, his reason to fight, his reason to think differently about the life he lived and how he lived it. Without realizing it, without consenting to it, they became the backbone of his heartbeat. And it would beat one more time for them.

"Bulma, Trunks, I do this for you…" he stares off into the hazy distance at wherever Buu is. His mind is consumed by them and he lets it comfortably rest there. He hopes Bulma forgives him for what he did, hopes she knows that he didn't really mean it. He was just caught up. Caught up with himself as always. He hopes they know that this time, perhaps for the first time, he isn't a factor in this decision.

But they aren't all that's there, though. He drifts to the unconscious man on the ground miles away, ignorant to what is happening here. The man who, whether Vegeta wants to admit or not, is somewhat responsible for Vegeta becoming this powerful warrior. How without him, he'd be some silly prince with silly prophecies about his destiny. A silly prince of three Saiyans floating in space with a pod that didn't belong to him. On a planet that didn't belong to him. Taking orders from a sadistic sociopath that didn't belong to his race. He had been shown better, and it was in silent thanks to the low class Saiyan.

"…and even you, Kakarot."

_One._

It's time. Countdown over.

Power is rising. Power is increasing and increasing until he can't control it anymore. It's too massive to contain. Too destructive to hold back. So he unleashes it. Unleashes his anger, his sadness, his love, his pride. Lets it all go until he can't feel anything other than the familiar warmth of the other side. Feels his body begin to slack from being emptied, being drained. Feels one last heartbeat as his family waves him goodbye, Bulma's thumb in the air, her left eye squeezed tightly. He tell them he'll see them again. Wishes them well. Lets it all go.

And with the last of his strength, in the comfort of the only reason Vegeta has chosen this route, he thinks of his family and smiles.

OooOooo

_I hope you enjoyed this!_


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